They Were Only Numbers
by VoicesOffCamera
Summary: On December 1st, 1969, all the Greasers gathered around the Curtis' little black and white television in order to witness a historic event. The assigning of numbers for the draft in order to aid the war in Vietnam. Little did they know just how much this would change the course of all their lives. Little did they know how these simple numbers would define so much of their lives.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Hello again! So, first of all: thank you to everyone who saw my post last week and responded with your thoughts, it was greatly appreciated! There were a couple votes for this to just be a one shot, but the majority of you seemed interested in seeing the more in depth version of this, so this is going to be a short multi-chapter story, probably around three to five chapters, depending on how it goes. I hope it lives up to expectations!

For those who didn't see the post last week: I know I probably said at some point that I was trying to get away from the Vietnam War stories, but I can't help it, I'm fascinated! Haha. And in any case, this is MUCH different than any of the other stories that I've already done, so hopefully you still find it interesting as well to look at this from this new angle.

Some quick background on how this idea came about: I realized that because we know the all the Greasers' birthdays (I got them off of the Outsiders Wiki, assuming those are accurate), it is actually possible to know what their draft numbers would have been since numbers were assigned based on the day you were born. So, just for fun, I looked them up. And I was NOT happy with what I found. But I challenged myself to imagine what this scenario would have been like. So, arguably, this will be my most realistic look at the Vietnam War draft. I hope I do it some justice.

Here we go!

* * *

 _ **They Were Only Numbers**_

 **Chapter One**

283; 273; 101; and 28.

Ponyboy had committed those four numbers to memory. He recited them before going to bed each night. He ran through them first thing when he woke up in the morning. He found those numbers flitting through his brain several times a day while he was at school, while he was doing his homework, while he horsed around with his friends.

283; 273; 101; and 28.

It was amazing how much those four little numbers had effected their lives in such a short amount of time.

On the evening December 1st, 1969, all five Greasers had gathered at the Curtis house. Both Soda and Steve called off work, Two-Bit rearranged his work schedule, and Darry got out of work early in order to be there. Even if they refused to take this seriously, they still gravitated toward each other during this time, unconsciously aware that their time together could be cut short, despite the fact that they were all too stubborn to actually admit it.

"Betcha Steve gets the lowest number," Two-Bit laughed as he dropped onto the couch.

"Big talk, can you back it up?" Steve demanded as he looped an arm around the back of Two-Bit's neck and pulled him off the couch.

"Watch the coffee table," Darry said absent mindedly as he walked into the room.

"You okay, Dar?" Soda asked as he slid the coffee table out of the way of the wrestling match now in full swing on their living room floor with his foot.

"Just a long day," Darry said as he sat in his recliner, rubbing the base of his neck where it met the shoulder, his fingers kneading deep into the muscle.

"Ah, goddamnit, Steve!" Two-Bit yelped as Steve slammed him to the floor and pinned him.

"Say it!" Steve demanded.

"Uncle, uncle! You win!" Two-Bit said even as he was laughing.

"Damn right, you sit on the floor," Steve said smugly as he got up and took Two-Bit recently vacated seat on the couch.

Pony took the spot on the far end of the couch from Steve, leaving Soda his usual spot in the middle. Two-Bit didn't seem too concerned about the seating arrangement since he didn't challenge anyone else for their spot.

It was almost comical how light the atmosphere was in the house before it happened. Jokes were made about it, and the truth of the matter was that was easier than taking this seriously. The American involvement in the Vietnam War had been going on since 1961, and the idea of implicating the draft had been tossed around many times by politicians over the years. Even with the announcement of the draft and the lottery, it was hard to believe any of it was actually going to happen, or if it did that it was going to really affect any of them. It just wasn't something that they could really wrap their minds around until it was too late.

"It's almost time," Darry said, glancing down at his watch. "Two-Bit, can you get the T.V.?"

Two-Bit moved forward and snapped on the little black and white television. He flipped a few channels until he found the one they were looking for and then he settled back so that the rest of them could see.

During the announcements at the beginning of the program, Two-Bit, Steve, and Soda were all still cracking jokes about who among them would be picked first. Pony was shifting uncomfortably as he tried to watch the proceedings, starting to feel the beginnings of nervousness working into his stomach. Darry was also silent, watching the screen with a serious expression. It wasn't until they actually started drawing dates did the jokes from the others finally die down.

Pictured on the screen was a large glass container that contained 366 opaque capsules, each one fitting easily into the hand of the older, bespectacled man who was picking them. A man that was clearly too old to be worried about being drafted himself. Inside of each capsule was a slip of paper with a date written on it. They already knew that the lottery was based on birthdates. Once a date was drawn, it would be assigned a number, and all those who were born on that day would have that number in the draft.

There were chuckles and ribs as the first ten dates were drawn. Lude remarks were made when the fourth date called was February 14th – Valentine's Day. Then the first ten turned into twenty.

And then, all at once, reality to came crashing down on all of them.

The 28th date that was pulled out of a capsule from the glass container was June 5th. Once the date was read, it was as if all the air had been forcibly sucked out of the room, leaving a harsh vacuum in its wake. Everyone's expressions turned grim, and they tried not to look at him, but it was hard not to.

Two-Bit's draft number was 28 out of 366. What were the goddamn odds?

Two-Bit had gone deathly still. A minute later he gasped in a breath, almost as if he had forgotten to breathe. He was staring vacantly at the television, like he wasn't quite clear what had just happened. Steve let out a string of curse words under his breath. Soda reached forward and gave Two-Bit's shoulder a squeeze, though Two-Bit didn't react to it. None of the rest offered up any words of comfort, because they all knew that there was no real comfort to give.

Suddenly this process went from something to be joked about and made fun of to something that was painfully real and ready to tear their lives apart. It was all but guaranteed that Two-Bit's number would be called up in the very near future, and none of them really seemed to know how to react to this new shift in their lives. It was a devastating blow to know that this happy-go-lucky guy who was always smiling and cracking jokes would soon be shipped halfway around the world in order to kill people. And there wasn't anything any of them could do to change that fact.

Pony suddenly thought back to a short story that he had read when he was in high school a few years ago. It was called "The Lottery" and written by a woman named Shirley Jackson. The story revolved around a small town that held an annual lottery. As the story progressed, everyone talks about who will win the lottery as they prepare for it like they would a big celebration. But at the end of the story, it is revealed that the "winner" didn't get a prize or money like you would expect. Instead, the person was stoned to death.

Pony suddenly felt like he was a part of that story with the implication of this draft, suddenly terrified that this lottery would take his close friends and family away from him.

The five boys lapsed into silence as they now listened carefully to each birthdate that was picked. Whenever the birth month of one of their own was called they all held their breath until the day was announced, letting out a sigh of relief each time it wasn't one of theirs.

As more and more dates were assigned numbers and none of them corresponded to any of the draft eligible boys in that room, the tension began to lessen. Perhaps the rest of them would be lucky. Perhaps only one of them would end up with a low number.

An odd, palpable tension passed through the room when November 9th was announced. Dally's draft number would have been 80, a number that was likely to be called within the next couple months. Pony honestly wasn't sure if Dally would have been upset about that or not. He often seemed to be a rebel without a cause… perhaps this would have given him a cause.

Pony was crunching numbers in his head, trying to reason his way out of a panic attack over who might be picked next. He wondered what the odds were that they would call even half of the draft numbers to fight in the war. Half of 366 was 183. If the rest of them all ended up with numbers higher than 183 then it was more likely that their numbers wouldn't even be called. That wasn't too much to hope for… right?

But apparently that was indeed too much to hope for. Because the 101st date that was called was January 5th.

As soon as the man on the television announced the date, Pony made a choking noise in the back of his throat, his airways constricting as his heart twisted painfully in his chest. No. No, it couldn't be. It was impossible. It had to be a mistake.

But, of course, it wasn't a mistake, which was made achingly clear as the date was so clearly put up on the board that they were using to keep track of the draft numbers. Darry's draft number was 101. While he wouldn't be within the first 100 called to service, it was still uncomfortably possible that Darry's number would be called within the next year. And if it was called, he would have to leave them to go fight in a war halfway around the world. Just the thought caused bile to crawl up Pony's throat, and he had to thickly swallow it back down.

Pony looked over at Darry. He was no longer looking at the television, but inside was staring across the room toward the front door, seemingly at nothing in particular. He had a strange look on his face, like he was thinking very hard about something. Almost as if he was calculating something. Pony couldn't help but wonder what was going through his head.

"This is such bullshit!" Steve suddenly raged, launching himself off the couch. "Who the hell are they to just decide who goes and who stays?"

"Steve…" Soda started.

"No, this is bullshit!" Steve repeated loudly. "We don't even know why the hell we're fighting a war on the other side of the goddamn world, and they want us to drop everythin' and go fight for _them_? Why aren't those damn suits in Washington the ones goin' over there and fightin' their own stupid fuckin' war?"

"Steve, sit down," Darry said in a surprisingly calm tone. Though when Pony looked over at him he noticed that Darry wasn't quite looking directly at Steve. "You throwin' a fit ain't gonna change anythin'."

Steve glared at Darry and opened his mouth to retort, but then he seemed to think better of it. Darry had this calm yet defeated look on his face that even Steve wasn't immune to. Steve huffed, but did as he was told as he plopped back down on the couch once more, his gaze turning back to the television screen. If looks could kill, that T.V. would be in flames.

All through the outburst, Pony had been careful to continue to listen to the dates that were still being pulled, the nameless man on the television oblivious to Steve's rage. They still had several more dates to be concerned about.

In his shock over Darry's draft number, Pony only vaguely registered when March 1st was called. Johnny's draft number would have been 108.

As they lapsed into silence once more, Pony couldn't help but think about how if this been a few years earlier when he and Soda were both underage, Darry wouldn't have been eligible to be drafted since he was their only caretaker. But Ponyboy was now eighteen and Sodapop was twenty-one. Neither of them could claim to be dependent on Darry anymore.

And Pony didn't realize until that moment just how badly he still wanted to be dependent on Darry.

It was also strange to think that Darry had come so close to being ineligible for the draft, even without being Pony and Soda's legal guardian. The cutoff for this draft lottery was 1944. Darry had been born in 1945. Just two more years and Darry would have been twenty-six and considered too old to be drafted.

So many things could have worked in their favor to prevent this. But of course they didn't. Of course the Greasers didn't catch any breaks.

The thought that Darry would have to leave them was hard to even comprehend. Darry had always looked out for them, even before they had lost their parents. And when the time came, he had given up everything in order to keep them together as a family. Not only that, but he was everyone's big brother, not just Pony and Soda's. He was the solid foundation that they all clung to in times of hardship. He was the one they turned to when times were tough. As painful as it was to think of Two-Bit to be forced to leave them, it was excruciating to think of the same being done to Darry.

The lottery continued at an even pace, seemingly myopic to all the lives that were changed each time they pulled out a new date.

Ponyboy felt his breath catch in his throat as he heard his own birthdate. Even though Pony was eighteen years old, he had just barely missed being included in this draft. This lottery only included those who were born between 1944 and 1950. Pony had been born in 1951. Even so, when July 22nd was announced as the 153rd number in the lottery, he couldn't help but feel his stomach drop as he squeezed his eyes shut.

There was a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Pony," came Soda's soft voice. "You're not eligible to be drafted, remember? You're still too young."

"I know," Pony said hoarsely as he opened his eyes again.

How was that fair though? He was eighteen years old; he had registered for the draft on his eighteenth birthday just like everyone else. That was over four months ago. He wasn't quite sure why this lottery didn't include him.

They were all quiet as the lottery continued. As they passed 200, Pony began to feel some semblance of relief. These numbers were much less likely to be called up. April 15th was the 273rd date that was pulled. Steve let out a string of quiet swear words in response to his number. It was only a few minutes later when October 8th was pulled, making Soda's number 283. These were both numbers that were very unlikely to be called. Soda and Steve both had an extremely good chance of not being called to service.

After Soda's number was assigned, Darry stood up from his seat and went over to the television, leaning over and snapping off the set in the middle of drawing the next date. None of the rest of the dates mattered to the boys in that room.

The room was absolutely silent, no sign of any of the joking that had been present when they had sat down. Pony looked over at Soda, who was starting down at his hands. _283_. Steve was leaning back on the couch, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared daggers at the now blank television screen. _273_. Darry had returned to his recliner, though he was sitting on the edge as he leaned forward, taking deep breaths as if trying to calm himself without drawing attention to himself. _101_. Two-Bit hadn't moved since his birthdate had been drawn, sitting on the floor and staring wide eyed as the wall behind the television. _28_.

283; 273; 101; and 28.

Those four numbers now corresponded with the four draft eligible boys sitting in that room. It would be a long time before Pony would be able to look at any of them and not immediately think of their draft number. The government had reduced these four people to nothing more but numbers to be called to service.

They all sat silently for a long time, none of them knowing what to do with this new information they had been given. And looking around at the shocked expressions around him, Pony couldn't help but feel like the odd man out. It was a very strange feeling knowing that he was the only one here that currently couldn't be called into service. Even Soda and Steve with their higher numbers ran the risk, however unlikely it was, of suddenly being called to fight in a war they barely knew anything about. And suddenly with that thought, Pony felt guilt gnawing away inside of him.

"I'm goin' out for some air," Two-Bit suddenly announced, his voice cracking. A second later he he was pulling himself to his feet, as if he body needed that extra second to catch up with his mind.

"I'll come with you," Soda said, starting to stand.

"No," Two-Bit snapped in a way that was so out of character for him that Pony's eyes immediately went to Steve, thinking for a moment that he was the one that had spoken. Then Two-Bit sighed heavily, drawing Pony's attention back to him. The weight of this lottery rested so obviously on him in the way his shoulders hunched and the way his eyes couldn't quite focus on any of them. "I just… I just need to process this on my own for a while," he mumbled, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he turned and headed out the door and into the frigid December night without so much as grabbing his coat.

It would be three days until any of them saw Two-Bit again.

That night changed the course of each of their lives forever. Each of them would be defined by their draft numbers for as long as this war lasted. Accepting that would be no easy task for these Greasers. But it was the hand that life dealt them. Whether they liked it or not, this was their new reality. And somehow they were have to find a way to cope with it.

283; 273; 101; and 28.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Okay, so first off, I HATE, LOATHE, and ABHOR that Two-Bit's draft number was so ridiculously low! In all of the "Outsiders involved in the Vietnam War" scenarios that I worked out in my head, Two-Bit was NEVER drafted to fight in Vietnam. My headcanon of him not going was only rivaled by my headcanon of Darry not going. And look how well that turned out. *facepalm* So you can imagine my distress. But I do like how this has pushed me out of my comfort zone of being so focused on Soda, so hopefully this is going to come across as a really interesting – and dare I say educational? – story!

 **HISTORICAL FACTS:** For those who may be interested, all of the dates here (as well as all dates in this story going forward) are, to the best of my googling abilities, true to historical accuracy. The first draft for the Vietnam War did occur on December 1st, 1969. That first draft was indeed only for men that had been born between 1944 and 1950, so it was true that even though Ponyboy would have been eighteen at the time, he still wouldn't have been eligible to be drafted at that point.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** So sorry I'm late with this guys! I try not to go too much over a month between updates. This chapter ended up being more of a challenge than I had anticipated. I've never really delved into Two-Bit's character or his background like this before. Definitely let me know what you think about his mother and his whole family history. Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait!

Special shout outs to Tyrannosaurus Ross, Pippinpoppin, Guest, milou03, 7Greasers, Hawaiichick, Jazzysauce, and HappierThanMost for taking the time to review the last chapter! I very much appreciate it!

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

"Hello?"

It was a distinctly feminine voice that floated into the Curtis house early the next morning, worn and aged. That was a very odd sound for any of them to hear in their home these days. Pony had been heading down the hall toward the bathroom when he heard it, having just gotten up to get ready for school, but curiosity drew him to the living room to see who was there. As he entered the living room, Darry was just coming out of the kitchen, a look of curiosity on his face as well.

"Ms. Lewis?" Darry said raising an eyebrow. Two-Bit's mother – who had changed back to her maiden name years ago after Two-Bit's father had run out on them – stood a bit awkwardly in the doorway, clearly dressed for her second job at the diner. She was swaying lightly on her feet, looking a bit unsteady. Darry clearly sensed her unsteadiness and was moving toward her carefully. "What're you doin' here? Is everythin' okay?"

It had been a long time since Two-Bit's mother had come over to their house unannounced, so Pony could understand Darry's confusion. But to Pony, the reason for her sudden appearance was painfully obvious.

 _28._

"H-have you heard from Keith?" Ms. Lewis stammered, glancing around the room anxiously. "I-is he here?"

Two-Bit's mother only used his real name for two reasons: if she was angry with him or if she was very upset about something.

Darry sighed, looking pained. "Why don't you come in and sit down," he suggested gently. When she didn't seem able to answer, Darry gently took the woman by the arm and led her inside.

Two-Bit's mother had only been seventeen when she had him, but despite being so young she had aged quickly, much like Darry had in the past couple years. She was a thin woman to the point of looking frail – though still able to hold her own with the drunks at the bar she worked at – always with her hair pulled up into messy buns and bags under her eyes. Life had never been easy for Ms. Lewis. She had married Two-Bit's father out of necessity just weeks before Two-Bit was born. The man had stuck around until Two-Bit was seven, though he had never done much to support the family as he had a hard time holding down a job. Then, when she had gotten pregnant with Two-Bit's sister, Mr. Matthews had apparently decided that enough was enough and he took off one night without a word to his family, never to return.

Two-Bit's mother had relied a lot on Mr. and Mrs. Curtis to get by in those early years. The two families had been very close. And then, after they had lost their parents, Ms. Lewis had turned up at the Curtis house practically weekly for that first year with a casserole to make sure the boys were taking care of themselves, despite her own struggling financial situation.

Pony shut his eyes against the sight of Darry helping Ms. Lewis sit on the couch, clearly barely holding her composure together. This woman did not deserve to have her only son taken away from her and shipped halfway around the world.

The sounds of the back door opening and then slamming shut caused Pony's eyes to snap back open, his heart lifting hopefully as he thought perhaps Two-Bit had come back. But it was only Soda and Steve who appeared from the kitchen. Judging by the smell that wafted in with them they had been smoking out on the back porch.

"What's goin' on?" Soda questioned quietly, his eyes darting from Pony to where Two-Bit's mother sat.

"Two-Bit's mom's lookin' for him," Pony told him softly.

"He didn't come home all night," Ms. Lewis said, her voice wavering. The worn look on her face made Pony wonder if she had waited up all night for him to come home. "That's not unusual… but I called his work and he never showed up for his shift last night." She took in shuddering breath as she lifted her eyes and looked around at the boys gathered in the room. "I… I saw the news last night. They had it on at work. Did… did he take it hard?"

 _28._

There was an awkward silence that filled the room. Pony wanted to spare Darry the responsibility of having to answer, he really did, but just thinking about stepping forward and speaking made his throat constrict painfully.

"He… he seemed sort of… in shock?" Darry said, clearly searching for the best way to be honest and also not scare Two-Bit's mother too much. "He took off last night right after the draft ended, said he needed some time to himself to process this. I'm sure he'll turn back up soon." But in the way that he couldn't quite meet Two-Bit's mother's eyes, it was clear he wasn't too sure of that.

Ms. Lewis nodded, but her hands were trembling in her lap as her eyes glassed over. Two-Bit's mother had never been a particularly emotional woman. Despite all that she's been through, raising two kids in this neighborhood on her own forced her to be tough. Watching her slowly losing the battle for her usually carefully contained composure was more painful that Pony had expected.

"It's just…" Ms. Lewis started, her voice trailing off as her eyes lifted to look at the boys around her. She took a deep, unsteady breath and started again. "I know it's silly. But things had finally gotten easier. Keith was working and his paycheck was helping so much. Sarah has been doing so well in school and I know it's her big brother's influence keeping her there. I… I even thought that maybe… maybe we could put her through college if she keeps her grades up." Her eyes flicked deliberately to Ponyboy, currently the poster boy for overcoming adversity and proof that Greasers could go to college. Pony fidgeted uncomfortably under the pressure of that gaze.

Soda seemed to sense Pony's unease as he moved closer and discreetly placed a hand on Pony's back for support.

"It'll be okay," Soda spoke up. "We'll always pitch in if you need us to. We'll make sure your bills stay paid and Sarah keeps goin' to school and everythin'."

"Soda's right," Darry agreed, seeming grateful that the focus wasn't completely on him anymore. "You don't have to worry about anythin' like that, we ain't gonna let you two starve while Two-Bit's gone."

A single tear streaked silently down her face as Ms. Lewis broke into a sad smile. She reached out and gently patted Darry on the cheek with a trembling hand in a very motherly way. Something in Darry's eyes shifted at the touch, and Pony wondered if he was suddenly missing their own mother.

"You are good boys," Ms. Lewis said softly, her gaze flitting around to take in all of them. "You really and truly are." She took yet another deep breath. "Just like Keith. He really is a good boy. He… he doesn't deserve this." Another tear fell. "This isn't right. He doesn't deserve to be taken away like this." Then another tear tell. Then, all at once, she leaned forward, resting her head on Darry's shoulder as she dissolved into sobs.

Two-Bit's mother was a strong woman. She had to be, raising two kids on her own like she did. It made them all uncomfortable to suddenly she her completely fall apart right in front of them. It was even more uncomfortable knowing that they all wanted to do the same.

"I'm goin' out to look for him," Steve mumbled, clearly just looking for an excuse to get out of this awkward situation.

"You'll be okay on your own?" Soda asked quietly. His gaze flicked over to where Darry was looking terribly uncomfortable, one hand resting on his knee while the other awkwardly patted Ms. Lewis on the back. "I think I'm gonna stay here and help out."

"Yeah, yeah, I don't need no babysitter," Steve said with a dismissive wave of his hand. And with that he disappeared out the front door.

It would be another hour before Ms. Lewis could pull herself together enough to leave for work. By that time they were all running late. But no one seemed particularly concerned with that particular detail. Steve wouldn't show up again until late into the evening, having covered most of the neighborhood and all their regular hangouts and not finding any sign of Two-Bit. They were all sick with worry as more time passed and they heard nothing from their friend. None of them knew what to expect from Two-Bit when he was this distraught. None of them had ever seen him like this before. And they all felt helpless with no idea what they should do.

It was early in the morning three days after the draft lottery. Pony was getting ready for school and Darry, Soda and Steve were all getting ready for work when suddenly the front door banged open, revealing a very unsteady Two-Bit stumbling into the house.

And as Pony looked at him, he couldn't help but think of that number that hung so heavily over his head.

 _28._

"Two-Bit?" Darry asked, staring at him strangely as if he were a ghost that had just materialized before his eyes. "Where the hell have you been? We've been lookin' everywhere for you, everyone's been worried sick about you."

Two-Bit mumbled something unintelligible as he staggered into an end table, almost sending a lamp crashing to the floor.

"You okay?" Soda asked as he went over to try and help Two-Bit, putting a hand on his shoulder to try and steady him. But Two-Bit brushed him off.

"I'm enlistin'," Two-Bit said flatly as he stabled himself using the arm of the couch.

"How much have you had to drink?" Steve demanded. "You're talkin' crazy, man."

Two-Bit shook his head, but didn't bother to deny that he had been drinking, despite the early hour. "I've been thinkin' about it a lot. I can sit around here for a few weeks, maybe a month or two, and wait 'til they call my number. Or I can just go and get it over with." He paused, his eyes trained on the floor. He had yet to really look at any of them. "I can't just sit around here and wait for some guy in a suit to decide to pick my number. It'll drive me crazy. And anyway, the sooner I go, the sooner I'll get back, right?" He looked up and fervently glanced around to the others with pleading in his eyes.

There was a long pause where no one moved, as if they had frozen in that moment in time.

Darry was the one to shatter the illusion as he swallowed and then carefully approached Two-Bit. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah, that's right, buddy."

Two-Bit nodded, though Pony wondered if he saw tears in his eyes or if he was just that drunk.

"Someone will look in on my mom while I'm gone. And Sarah. Right?" Two-Bit mumbled, his gaze falling back down to study his mud-crusted boots.

"Yeah, of course," Darry assured him. "You don't even gotta ask, you know that." He paused for a moment, trying to meet Two-Bit's disturbingly vacant gaze. "You know, you're mother came by here a few days ago lookin' for you. She's real worried about you."

"I… I couldn't face her…" Two-Bit said quietly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. He blinked and they were finally able to see a spark of something behind his gaze, though Pony couldn't quite place what it was. "Not… not like this. S-she can't see me like this."

"C'mon, come sit down," Soda said, insistently taking Two-Bit by the shoulders and steering him over to the couch. As they approached the couch Two-Bit's knees gave out so suddenly that he almost missed the couch altogether, awkwardly landing on the edge and gripping the arm for stability. "Talk to us, man," Soda said, carefully taking a seat next to him. "Tell us what's goin' on."

"I… I don't wanna go," Two-Bit mumbled, sounding almost as if he were coming to this realization only as the words were tumbling out of his mouth. "I ain't no solider. I mean, sure, I'm good for a rumble here and there… but they're gonna want me to _shoot_ people. People I don't even know, people I ain't got no beef with." He looked up and finally seemed to see them standing around him for the first time. He looked painfully young and lost. "How am I supposed to do that?"

Silence followed that question. None of them knew the answer to that.

It was a long while before any of them found the strength to move. Ideas of school and work quickly fell to the wayside as without speaking they agreed to spend the day as a group. It was a quiet day and Pony couldn't help but think that the atmosphere in the house felt as if they were already in mourning. It was a disconcerting thought that he just couldn't shake, especially whenever he happened to catch Two-Bit's eye.

 _28._

It wasn't until that evening as they all sat down to dinner together that the tension began to lessen. Careful jokes were cracked and memories were shared. Two-Bit took longer to warm up than he usually did and even when he did finally smile it was nowhere near the grin that they were used to, but it was still a relief to see even a shadow of the Two-Bit they all knew.

Early the next morning, Soda and Steve drove Two-Bit out to the recruitment office downtown. But just before they left, Pony noticed that Darry discreetly pulled Soda aside to have a private conversation.

"What were you talkin' to Soda about earlier?" Pony asked as he helped Darry clean up from breakfast. He asked mostly because he was curious, but also because with Soda, Steve and Two-Bit's departure it was suddenly uncomfortably quiet in the house.

Darry glanced at Pony briefly, looking uncomfortable at the question. "Nothin' important. Just told him to drive careful."

"Sure looked like more than that," Pony pointed out, unable to completely hide the annoyance from his tone.

Darry checked his watch. "You know, you really ought to get to school today," he said as if Pony hadn't spoken. "You can't keep skippin' classes if you want to keep your grades up."

Pony dropped the plates he was holding into the sink a little harder than he should have, causing a decent sized crash to grab Darry's full attention.

"Damnit, Darry, you can't keep treatin' me like I'm still a thirteen year old kid," Pony accused. "I'm eighteen now. I'm a legal adult, just like Soda is."

Darry's expression went from surprised, to pitying. "You two are always gonna be my kid brothers," he said softly. "No matter how old you get." He sighed heavily as he took a seat at the kitchen table, suddenly seeming too tired to stay on his feet. "I just told him to make sure Steve didn't do anything stupid today. I wouldn't put it past him to enlist with Two-Bit in order to stay with him. But there's no way they'd keep them together, even though they'd say that they would in the recruitment office. They'll say anything to get more bodies out there on the front lines." He paused. "I also made it clear that Soda wasn't to do anythin' like that either."

Pony looked at him, wide eyed. "You think he would?" As painful as it was trying to deal with the fact that Two-Bit was going to have to leave them, Pony couldn't imagine trying to come to terms with Soda leaving them as well.

Darry shook his head, looking down at his hands that were clasped in his lap. "No. No, I don't think he would. Not now."

He didn't say it out loud, but Pony understood what he was actually saying. Soda wouldn't enlist with Two-Bit because Darry's draft number was so low. He wouldn't willingly risk leaving Pony here by himself. And while it was comforting to Pony that he wouldn't lose Soda, he couldn't help the way his stomach churned as he observed the way that Darry's shoulders were slumped, defeated.

 _101._

It was now clear why despite the fact that he was worried about Steve making a rash decision while Two-Bit was enlisting, he did not offer to take Two-Bit himself. Darry couldn't face the enlistment office. He couldn't yet face the fact that he too might share the same fate as Two-Bit.

"Yeah, you're right," Pony said, trying to assure himself as well as Darry. "He wouldn't do that. And I'm sure he'll keep Steve from doing that too."

It was so hard to think that they were condemning Two-Bit to face his fate alone, especially given that ever since they were all little they had always stuck together. But these days their numbers were dwindling enough as it was. Now was not the time for heroic sacrifices.

Pony finished cleaning up and then went to school, mostly just to make Darry happy. He was hardly able to pay attention all day though and raced right home afterward. It seemed a bit silly to him after the fact that he had rushed so much, because he found the house to be empty when he got there. He would find out later that both Darry and Soda had gone to work that day. Steve had called off to stay with Two-Bit, who had finally worked up the courage to go home for the first time since the draft lottery. Pony would also be relieved that although Steve had tried to enlist, Soda managed to talk him out of it.

As painful as it was in the coming days, life had to go on. The one change that they made was to make sure someone was always off work to stay with Two-Bit. They were all worried about what he might do left to his own devices.

Everything happened very quickly after Two-Bit officially enlisted. Within the week, Two-Bit had his physical evaluation and it was no surprise to anyone that he was found to be in fine shape to be shipped overseas. Just over two weeks after the draft lottery, they were driving Two-Bit to the bus station to be shipped out to boot camp.

Two-Bit had had a teary departure with his mother and little sister as his house, as neither of them could bare to accompany him to the bus station. All four boys took it upon themselves to endure this journey for as long as they could. They wouldn't leave Two-Bit's side until they had to.

The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. Two-Bit would be taking the first bus out that morning. There were only a few other people around the station that early in the morning, and even though they were grateful not to have a crowd, it gave the station a bit of an eerie feel to it.

Two-Bit had walked a few steps away from the group before he froze in place, staring at the one bus that was parked in the lot. The others were gathered behind him, hands shoved in pockets as they all struggled for something to say.

"This ain't goodbye," Pony suddenly blurted after they stood around in silence for several minutes. Everyone turned to look at him and he shifted uncomfortably under the sudden scrutiny. But he forced himself to continue, looking directly at Two-Bit, who ironically hadn't said so much a two words all morning. "You're gonna write to us, right? We'll write back. You can call us up when you can whenever you're at base. And it's only for a year. This ain't goodbye. It's just… it's just we'll talk to you later. Right?" He looked around hopefully for support.

"Kid's got a point." Surprisingly it was Steve that spoke up first. "A year ain't that long. You'll be back before you know it."

"Yeah, I guess," Two-Bit murmured, sounding far from convinced. His eyes wandered back toward the bus that was going to take him away from Tulsa, Oklahoma for the first time in his entire twenty-two years of life. " _If_ I come back that is…"

"Hey, you can't think like that, man," Soda said, pain in his eyes as he looked at his friend. He stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Two-Bit's shoulder. "You go into this thinkin' you ain't gonna come back, and that's exactly what's gonna happen. As far an I'm concerned, we Greasers got a better chance than most at comin' back from this. We're used to surviving crappy situations, right?"

Two-Bit quirked the corner of his mouth into a semblance of a smirk. It was better than nothing.

"Yeah, damn right," he said, even managing to sound halfway to sincere.

They were all startled by the sound of the bus's engine sputtering to life. Their time was up. They had known this was coming for two weeks now, but as it turned out that didn't make this moment any easier.

"You look after yourself out there, hear me?" Soda said in a quiet but stern voice, giving Two-Bit's shoulder a squeeze.

Two-Bit nodded as he strained to smile, the gesture looking almost painful in contrast to his tense features. "You guys stay outta trouble while I'm gone."

"You know it," Steve responded.

"Send your address at boot camp as soon as you get there," Pony told him. "I'll write you so much it'll be like you never left." He tried to give his friend an encouraging smile, though he honestly wasn't real sure how successful he was.

"Sounds good, kid," Two-Bit said with a nod. He took a deep breath, deliberately pulling his shoulders back so that he stood taller. "Here goes nothin'."

And with that he turned and he walked away.

There were no teary goodbyes, no hugging or displays of affection. They simply stood there and watched helplessly as their friend slung his small duffle bag of personal belongings over his shoulder and boarded the bus that would take him to boot camp. Only a few minutes after he disappeared onto the bus, the door hissed shut and the vehicle groaned forward. They all silently watched as the Greyhound crossed the parking lot, turned out onto the road, and disappeared from sight.

Only after they could no longer see the bus rumbling down the road did Pony turn to look at his oldest brother. Darry was leaning up against the side of the truck, arms crossed over his chest and his eyes hard and seemingly to look at something none of the rest of them could see. He had notably been silent since the moment that they pulled into the bus station.

Darry would later admit that not saying something – _anything_ – to Two-Bit at the bus station that morning would be a huge regret and source of guilt to him for a long time. But at the time he hadn't been able to come up with anything to say. All he could think of was how much longer he had until he was forced to board that same bus. How much longer he would have with his family before he was forced to leave, with no idea if he would make it home again.

The sun was now shining just above the horizon as Pony looked around at the Greasers who stood in that parking lot. Soda and Steve stood together, still looking down the road at where the bus had disappeared.

 _283_ and _273_.

Darry was unmoving as he stood up against the truck.

 _101_.

And Two-Bit was voluntarily starting his deployment early.

 _28_.

Two-Bit's actual draft number wouldn't officially be called for another month. And it was painful to the Greasers to think that maybe they should have taken that extra month to spend with their friend. Maybe they gave him up too early. That thought would haunt each of them in its own way.

One thing was certain. The draft had officially taken the first of the people that Ponyboy considered as good as family. And it stood to reason that it wasn't finished with them yet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! I'm still here! So sorry this took so long, I had wanted to post this around Christmas, but the holidays ended up being more hectic that I thought. Special shout outs to **Tyrannosaurus Ross** , **Irindiglo** , **HappierThanMost** , **Hawaiichick** , **woottonshelby13** , and **Kit** for reviewing the last chapter! I'm so sorry that haven't had time to respond, but I read every review and they are hugely encouraging for keeping up with this story, so thank you so much for taking the time to give me your thoughts!

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

Two-Bit's departure left a very noticeable void in their lives.

It was surprising to each of them how painful it was to just go on with their daily lives without Two-Bit there with them. He had been a constant presence in their lives for years. Darry still had hazy memories of Two-Bit before he learned how to talk in complete sentences. And it wasn't like with Johnny and Dally. Or even with Mr. and Mrs. Curtis. Two-Bit wasn't dead. They couldn't mourn him and find some sort of closure with the situation. With his departure, a year long waiting game had begun. It was like they were standing on a ledge, unsure if they were going to fall or not.

Christmas came quickly, only a little over a week after Two-Bit's departure, while he was still at boot camp. None of them said it out loud, but they were all regretting how easily they had let Two-Bit enlist. They now realized that they could have at least spent Christmas together, as only the first five numbers of the draft had been called so far.

Despite all that, they did their best to enjoy the day. They exchanged small presents. They had Two-Bit's mother and sister over to the house, both of whom helped make Christmas dinner. Having two more people over also helped to make the house feel less empty. Pony turned the television on to the holiday cartoons that Two-Bit had always liked to watch, a small tribute to his absence.

"I thought we might hear from him today," Two-Bit's mom admitted quietly as she helped Darry wash the dishes, despite his protests that she didn't need to.

Darry glanced at her and then shot a look at the doorway to the living room, making sure they were still alone. Steve, Soda, Pony and Sarah were all still gathered in the living room. Soda had broken out a deck of cards and by the looks of it they were teaching Two-Bit's little sister how to play Texas Hold 'Em.

"I thought so too," Darry admitted, his gaze lingering for just a moment on the phone that was hung on the wall before he turned back to the task at hand. They had all been discouraged that in the last couple weeks they hadn't heard a word from Two-Bit. No phone call. No letter. They knew that he hadn't been sent overseas yet, he would still be at boot camp for at least another month or two. Knowing that, the silence had been unnerving to all of them. "But it might be hard to get near a phone on a holiday like this. I'm sure a lot of the guys there had the same idea."

Ms. Lewis nodded, but didn't look comforted. As she picked up another plate, Darry noticed that her hands were shaking. He had noticed her hands shaking on and off throughout dinner as well. This was a woman who had an initial breakdown when her husband had left her, but then had promptly picked herself up, gotten a second job, and resolutely dealt with the hand she was given. She may look thin, worn and frail most of the time but she was tough as nails when she needed to be. Darry honestly hadn't been expecting to see this much unsteadiness from her.

But as he really thought about it, the painful reality of the situation suddenly crashed down on him. He realized that he of all people should have realized it from the beginning. Ms. Lewis found strength when she was providing for her children. She had to be strong back then with a seven year old son and a baby on the way, both of whom would depend on her and her alone. It was only now that her son had been taken away from her that she was starting to show cracks in her armor.

That was something that Darry could very much relate to. The only reason he had been able to keep it together after they lost their parents was because he had to for Pony and Soda's sakes. And it was why it was so easy to fall apart when Ponyboy ran away. He did everything for Pony and Soda. And only the loss of one of his wards could warrant true emotions to take over.

Just like what was now happening to Ms. Lewis.

"Here," Darry said. "Why don't you sit down for a minute?"

Ms. Lewis was shaking her head, looking out the back window over the sink, a faraway look in her eye as if she were unaware that he was even standing there. "Maybe we should have stayed home today. What if he called the house and we weren't there to answer?"

"I'm sure if he didn't get an answer at your house, he would have called ours next," Darry tried to assure her. She didn't react to this statement, still staring out the window with a troubled expression. Carefully, Darry reached out and placed a hand on her back in an attempt to get her attention. She jerked slightly at his touch, almost as if she had forgotten he was there, and he quickly pulled his hand back, feeling awkward. It wasn't used to comforting adults. "Ms. Lewis? C'mon, take a break, sit down for a minute."

Ms. Lewis nodded her consent as she carefully put down the plate in her hand. Darry led her over to the table, pulling out a chair so that she could sit. Then he took a seat next to her.

"You know, I was pretty lost when I was a teenager," Ms. Lewis said quietly, looking down at her hands folded tightly in her lap. "When I got pregnant… I wasn't even completely sure that Daniel was actually Keith's father. But he's who I was with when I found out, so it just seemed easier to let him believe he was." Darry found that he was surprised by this revelation, even though it was a common enough occurrence in this neighborhood. "But after he was born… it's like I had a purpose for the first time in my life. And I knew from that moment on that I would work as hard as I could to give him more stability that I ever had."

"And you did," Darry reminded her. "Despite his dad takin' off, Two-Bit's got one of the most stable households in this whole neighborhood. Him and Sarah. You gave that to them. What happened to Two-Bit is no reflection on you. You did everything you could for him and more."

"But where's the justice?" Ms. Lewis asked, finally looking up and meeting his gaze. "After everything we've been through, how is this fair?"

Darry sighed. "We've had to learn the hard way, no matter how hard you work, life isn't always fair," he said.

"I'm sorry," Ms. Lewis said with a sigh. "I know with everything you and your brothers have been through, I shouldn't be complaining."

"It's not a competition," Darry assured her. "What we've been through doesn't at all diminish what you're going through."

Suddenly, Ms. Lewis gave him a small smile. "You are so much like your father, Darrel," she said softly.

Darry inhaled sharply at that. Even after all these years, it was hard to think of their parents and not remember the pain of their loss.

Darry and Two-Bit's mother finally went to join the rest out in the living room. The atmosphere in their home was as relaxed as it got these days. They all talked, played cards, and Soda even attempted to lead them in a few horribly off key versions of Christmas carols (something that Two-Bit would usually do).

It was getting late into the night and everyone had settled down to watch _It's a Wonderful Life_ on the television. Even Soda was able to sit still for the movie, at feat in itself. It spoke to how tired everyone was that they were all able to sit down like this at this time of night, rather than roughhousing like they normally would. It was suddenly clear that no one had been sleeping well since Two-Bit left.

They were about halfway through the movie, with several of them beginning to doze off, when it happened.

The phone rang.

For a minute, everyone froze. Everything was so still, to the point where Darry couldn't help but count the rings from the phone, the only proof the time was still moving.

 _Brringg_ … _brringg_ … _brringg_ … _brringg_ …

They had been anxious in the weeks after Two-Bit's departure. Every time the phone rang there was a race to answer it, each time hoping that it was Two-Bit calling. The more time that passed, the more the hope that they would get that phone call began to fade.

But today, they all had the same idea. And they all were hoping that this phone call would finally be the one that they had been waiting for. Finally, Darry reached over and picked up the phone.

"Hello," Darry said, his tone guarded.

"Well, hey there Darry."

Darry's breath left him in a sharp hiss as he very suddenly leaned back in the recliner before quickly sitting forward once more.

"Damn, Two-Bit, it's good to hear from you," he said as grin broke across his face.

The moment Darry said Two-Bit's name, it was like an explosion of motion as everyone crowded around him and started shouting greetings to their friend… brother… and son.

"Glory, where are you, at a Christmas rave?" Two-Bit laughed, though there was a note in his voice that Darry couldn't quite identify. Exhaustion? Fear?

"Okay, guys, take it easy," Darry said, directing the statement at those in the room with him as he waved them away. "Give me a minute, okay? You'll all get a turn." He turned his attention back to the phone. "How you doin', Two-Bit? They treatin' you okay there?"

"Well the food is terrible," Two-Bit said dryly. "And they make us get up at 5:00. In the _morning_. I didn't even know they had one of those in the morning!"

Darry laughed, feeling relieved that even if he didn't sound as lighthearted as usual, Two-Bit was still holding on to his sense of humor.

"Man, we've been waiting weeks to hear from you, what happened?" Darry couldn't help but asked.

He heard Two-Bit sigh into the phone. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said. "Things have been… hectic. It's been a lot to get used to. Don't got a lot of free time either."

"Yeah, I understand." He glanced up at the anxious faces that were still watching him. "Listen, we got everyone here at the house today."

"Is my mom and Sarah there?" Two-Bit asked. "I called their house but no one picked up."

"Yeah, they are," Darry confirmed. "You wanna talk to one of them?"

"Yeah… put me on with my mom, would you?"

"Sure," Darry agreed, nodding at Ms. Lewis to let her know that she was next. "You take care of yourself, you hear?"

"Yeah, sure, Darry," Two-Bit answered, and Darry could hear the smile in his voice. "Merry Christmas, man."

"Merry Christmas," Darry returned before handing off the phone and standing up so that Ms. Lewis could take the recliner.

"Keith?" Ms. Lewis said eagerly in the phone. "Oh, baby, I miss you!"

Darry ushered the others to take a few steps back, granting Ms. Lewis a little privacy with her son. It was a small gesture that he could make during this difficult time for their family.

Two-Bit couldn't stay on the phone for long, but they still managed to pass the phone around so that everyone could talk to him at least once. By the time they hung up, not only were they in better spirits, but they could tell that Two-Bit had been as well.

It would be a very long year, waiting to see if Two-Bit would return from war. But in a time where the government saw fit to take people away, the dwindling number of Greasers found comfort in banding closer together.

* * *

Darry's birthday always tended to sneak up on them. January 5th was so soon after Christmas and New Year's Eve that it was often overshadowed by the holidays. However, to Pony's knowledge, Darry had never once dared complain about this. He had never been one for big parties anyway and always seemed content with a home-cooked meal, a chocolate birthday cake and a few close friends over at the house.

It was early on that morning that Pony felt himself gently being shook awake.

"C'mon, Pony," came Soda's soft voice. "C'mon, get up."

Pony groaned as he squinted one eye open, noticing that it still looked dark beyond the curtain that covered the window.

"No way," Pony mumbled as he turned away from Soda and curled further under the warm covers. "Can't be time yet…"

But Soda reached out and shook his shoulder again, more insistently this time. "C'mon, I wanna make sure Darry don't have to cook breakfast on his own birthday. C'mon, Pony, come help. Please?"

Pony gave a deep sigh, but rolled back over and pushed himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes as he tried to force himself to wake up more. "Yeah, okay," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. "Be out ina minute."

Soda gave him a skeptical look, but turned and left anyway.

By the time Pony had dragged himself out of bed and down the hall, Soda already had an extra-large chocolate cake on the table – something he had whipped up the day before while Darry was working late and then hide in the bottom of the ice box – and was well into making the bacon and eggs. Without comment, Pony started working on making the coffee, something he had taken to drinking a lot of lately.

Soda eyed him as he poured himself a cup. "You been drinkin' that a lot lately." Not much got passed Soda, he had always been good at observing people.

"So?" Pony asked with a shrug, trying to sound indifferent to the observation. He took a sip of the bitter liquid before he started digging through the pantry for more options for breakfast.

"You just never used to," Soda said. He paused, studying the scrambled eggs as he pushed them around the skillet with more concentration than was necessary. "You been sleepin' okay?"

He hadn't. Pony felt like he hadn't had a full night's sleep since the draft lottery. Every time he closed his eyes, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to wake up without Darry there. What it would be like knowing that his brother had been taken away from him and turned into a solider for a war that he didn't believe in.

 _101._

Thankfully, Pony was spared having to answer as Darry walked in just then.

"What're you two doin' up so early?" he asked, honestly looking at them in confusion.

They both turned at the sound of his voice, having not heard him come into the room, and Pony gave a start at his expression. Had he really forgotten?

"Happy birthday!" Soda practically shouted, a grin spreading across his face.

It seemed to take Darry a moment to really compared the words. Just that was enough for Pony to guess that he really had forgotten that today was his birthday. And he couldn't help but wonder what Darry was more distracted by: worry for Two-Bit or his own potential future deployment.

Pony also couldn't help but think this whole draft lottery not only took away their choice, but in a way it took away their enjoyment of their own birthdays. Because suddenly the day was also a reminder.

 _101_.

"You guys didn't have to do all this," Darry said with a small smile as they began to move the breakfast supplies – which was only a little more than what they usually had – to the table.

"Hey, it's not every day that a guy turned twenty-five!" Soda pointed out. Despite the smile on his face, Soda's excitement sounded a bit more strained than it used to. "You given any thought into what you wanna be when you grow up yet?"

"Oh yeah," Darry said as he sat, rolling his eyes. "I'm gonna be an astronaut when I grow up."

Pony couldn't help but snort a laugh at how deadpan Darry had delivered the punchline to their yearly running joke. It had taken him a long time to really understand his oldest brother's dry sense of humor.

But as the conversation at the table wandered to more mundane topics, Pony couldn't help but feel his thoughts snag on an idea brought about by their joking. It was something that had been sitting just below the surface of his conscious thoughts for a while now, but that morning it finally crystalize in his mind.

"What if you went to school?" Pony asked suddenly, only vaguely aware that he had interrupted whatever conversation his brothers had been having.

Both of his brothers looked at him like he'd lost his mind, clearly having no idea what he was talking about.

"What?" Soda finally prompted.

Pony fixed his gaze on Darry. "You can defer the draft if you're a full-time student," he said. "You could enroll in school." It seemed like the perfect solution. Darry had always wanted to go to college anyway.

Darry sighed as he put his fork down. "That won't work, Pony," he said calmly.

"Why wouldn't it?" Pony demanded.

Darry exchanged a look with Soda. "Well, for starters, we can't afford it. In order to defer the draft, you gotta be a full-time student. With me and Soda both workin' full time, we're barely afforin' your school, even with your scholarship, let alone me cuttin' my hours and addin' another school to pay for."

"Well, I can take a break from school," Pony insisted. "I'll get a full-time job and you can go to school."

Darry gave him a pained look. "Ponyboy, after all your hard work, you are absolutely _not_ droppin' out of college."

"It's not dropping out," Pony said. "It's just taking a break. Just trading you for a while basically." He paused. "You've sacrificed so much to take care of us these past couple years, Darry. I can do this to help you for a change."

"Pony," Darry said sympathetically as he reached out and put a hand on Pony's arm, giving it a light squeeze. "I appreciate you willin' to do that for me, I really do. But it wouldn't work." He sighed. "We don't even know if I could get in to college after all this time. I've been outta school for six years now. And even if I did somehow get in, it would only be a stall. The second that my grades drop or my classes don't meet full time limits, the draft board will yank me right out of there."

"All you need is two years," Pony said, a hint of pleading in his voice. "You don't even have to finish, all you need is two years and you won't be eligible to be drafted."

There was a heavy silence that followed this.

"Ponyboy," Soda spoke up quietly. "Don't forget, they're already talkin' about doin' another draft lottery for everyone born in '51. That could happen before the year is done, maybe even in the next couple months. We have no idea what kinda number _you're_ gonna end up with. And after they do that lottery, they're gonna start calling up those numbers along with the ones that they already got. For all we know, you could get called up before Darry. You _have_ to be a full time student when that happens so _you_ can defer."

"So, what, it's okay for Darry to be drafted but not me?" Pony demanded, a hint of accusation in his voice.

"Considerin' you're the one with the promisin' future ahead of you, yes, it is," Darry said calmly.

"It ain't fair!" Pony practically shouted, slamming a fist down on the table, causing the plates and glasses to shudder. Darry and Soda both looked a little taken aback by the sudden outburst. "It ain't fair because you deserve a future too! You always did so well in school and it ain't fair that I get this and you don't!"

"Ponyboy…" Soda started, but Pony didn't want to listen.

"It ain't fair that after all the years of tryin' so hard to stay together, after everything you did so that the state wouldn't come and take me and Soda away, that suddenly they can just decide to take _you_ away from _us_!"

 _101._

He wasn't aware that he was crying until Soda stood up and moved over to him, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing him in close. Tears fell steadily down his face and Pony took a couple unsteady breaths as he clutched onto Soda and fought for some kind of composure.

After a few minutes the tears finally slowed. Pony looked up to find Darry still sitting in his seat, looking over at him with a pained and helpless expression. He knew he shouldn't say what was on his mind at that moment. He knew it would only make Darry feel worse. But suddenly the words were tumbling out of his mouth, seemingly of their own accord.

"Darry… what are we supposed to do without you?"

"Oh, Ponyboy," Darry said thickly, reaching out again to grasp Pony's arm. He didn't seem to have the strength to stand. "You know I hate this, right? You know that I hate the idea that I might have to leave you guys." Pony bobbed his head slightly, fresh tears gathering in his eyes. "But I know you guys are gonna be okay. You're gonna look out for each other, right? You'll stick together, you'll have each other's backs. You'll be okay." Then he closed his eyes and gripped Pony's arm as if he were suddenly in physical pain. "You have to be. You hear me?"

"We will," Soda said earnestly, giving Pony a light squeeze, though there was a slight quiver in his voice. "We'll be alright." He took in a shuttering breath, and Pony knew he was fighting for composure himself. Pony didn't look at him because he knew that if he saw the pain in Soda's eyes he was going to break down again. "Anyway, it might not even happen," Soda went on, clearly straining to sound lighthearted. "We could be gettin' all worked up over nothin'."

They all nodded their agreement, straining to shake off the feeling of dread that surrounded them, despite the fact that no one actually believed that Darry's draft number wouldn't eventually be reached.

In the meantime, they still had one last draft number that had yet to be revealed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Okkkkayyyy guys, a few things to note before we jump into this next chapter.

First of all: There's going to be some slight historical inaccuracies in this chapter. I struggled with this, because I was really striving to make this as historically accurate as possible… but when I was almost done with this chapter I realized that I had something wrong. This takes place at the end of May, so Two-Bit would have finished his three months of boot camp and been overseas for a little over two months, since he left mid-December. But, when I was crunching the numbers, I realized that in all likelihood, if the draft numbers were called at even intervals, Darry's number would have been called around early – mid May. Which didn't mesh at all with what I was doing here. So, I'm taking some artistic liberties here and having the numbers being called up go at a little bit of a slower pace, and possibly at odd intervals because I'm still deciding whether to have it before or after my next major plot point. So hopefully you guys will forgive me if I acknowledge my inaccuracy! (Though it's probably unlikely anyone is fact checking that closely… but still, I like to be upfront and honest! Haha!)

Secondly: I have a bit of not so good news… so a lot of you have probably noticed how my updates have slowed down recently compared to what they've been with previous stories. I've recently been dealing with some health issues. It's nothing horribly serious, but it has been affecting my ability to sit down and write as much as I used to. The chief aspect that's currently hindering my writing is a severe cyst that's on my hand. Some of you who have followed my stories in the past may remember a few years ago when I first got it removed and had to take a break from posting… well it's back and it's unfortunately worse than before. I am basically functioning with only one hand at the moment. I am getting it surgically removed again on April 5th, so that means the next update for this chapter is probably going to be delayed (though let's be honest, it's not as if they were coming that quickly, were they?). I am hopeful that by the end of April I will be back to normal hand function and will hopefully be able to jump back into this pretty quickly! But I wanted to let you guys know what was going on and thank you for your patience! BUT this is an extra-long chapter, so hopefully it'll hold you until I get back! (And I WILL be back, I never leave a story unfinished!)

So I believe that covers all my announcements! I do want to give my special shout outs to those who reviewed the last chapter: **Tyrannosaurus Ross** , **SunshineInTheGraySky** , **HappierThanMost** , and **milou03**! You guys are the BEST, I really appreciate you taking the time to review!

And now, onward! This chapter actually came out of nowhere for me, it's the first chapter that hasn't had at least some piece of the original one shot in it. I fell a little back into my wheelhouse of Sodapop angst, but that's what was flowing so I just went with it! Hopefully you guys like it!

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

 _April 26, 1970_

 _Soda,_

 _I'm sorry._

 _I've been staring at your name written on this piece of paper for days and I've finally decided that this is the best way I can start off this letter. I'm really sorry. I don't know who else to go to. I'm addressing this letter to just you in hopes that you're the only one reading this. I don't wanna worry my mom or my sister. Steve's not gonna understand. And Darry… I dunno if he's gonna end up over here or not, but I felt too bad writing about this stuff to him. And you know Pony._

 _I don't want it to seem like you were my last option to talk to. I just want you to understand why I feel like you're the only one I can lay this burden to._

 _I never wanted to be here. That's no secret. But boot camp wasn't too bad. It was a routine, it was like being in gym class all day long. I think I thought if the training wasn't bad then being over here might not be bad either. Three months of training and I really did think I'd be able to handle this._

 _I was wrong. I was so wrong._

 _I'm supposed to be tough. I'm a greaser. I'm not supposed to let stuff get to me. But man, I don't know how to handle this. I don't know how to handle being out in the jungle and having to fight for my life and the lives of the guys around me. It's kill or be killed. We already lost a kid in our unit. He didn't go quick either. I have nightmares about his last ten minutes before he finally died._

 _(I'm told it was only ten minutes. Felt a lot longer.)_

 _I was hesitant to pull the trigger when we first got here. I'm not hesitant anymore. And I dunno how I'm supposed to feel about that. Taking the life of people I don't know. I don't know why I'm here…_

 _I had to get this all out there man, or I was gonna lose it. I'm still not completely sure I won't lose it eventually. I've only been here for about two months, I still have ten more months to go. I dunno how I'm gonna do it. I dunno how I'm gonna last that long._

 _Please don't tell anyone else that I'm struggling. I'm gonna send another letter to my mom and sister and tell them everything is fine. I'll do the same for the rest of the gang. I don't want them to know. Not right now anyway._

 _I hate putting this on you, Soda. Please forgive me. I don't know what else to do._

 _Thanks for listening,_

 _Your friend,_

 _Two-Bit Matthews_

* * *

Sodapop held the slightly crumpled piece of paper, smeared lightly on the edges with the grease and oil that was constantly on his fingers.

He couldn't help but be a little impressed by Two-Bit's writing ability. It was almost as good as Pony's. He knew that Two-Bit was never as dumb as he liked to come off, but it was still surprising to read his own words like this.

He knew that was a trivial thought to have considering what was contained in this letter. But it was easier than trying to come to terms with what the words meant when they were strung together.

It had been lucky that he had gotten home before Darry that day. It had been lucky no one else had seen the letter that was addressed to only him. Soda agreed with Two-Bit that none of the other needed this burden. And as much as it hurt to know that Two-Bit was feeling like this, he knew it was nothing compared to what Two-Bit was going through. So this was a burden that he would bare without complaint.

The letter was dated three weeks before it arrived at the house. That had been two weeks ago. Soda knew he had to respond somehow, but he'd never been very good at writing. He knew what he wanted to tell his friend, but every time he sat down to put his thoughts on paper, he found that nothing would come out.

He didn't understand how this came so easily to his younger brother.

It was a rare day where Soda was working and Steve was not. Steve had come down with a nasty case of the flu the day before and probably wouldn't be up to working for a few days at least. That meant that Soda had the garage at the DX to himself. And knowing that he had already put this off for two weeks and it would take several more weeks for a letter to reach Vietnam once he mailed it, he was determined to finally accomplish this task today.

He had worked most of the morning, finding comfort in working on various problems that was within his skill set to fix. But now, as he took his lunch break, he had cleared a relatively clean spot on the work bench. He had laid out a formerly clean piece of paper next to Two-Bit's letter – though the blank sheet was already sporting a few oil stains – and a pencil. He didn't bother pulling up a stool, finding that he had no desire to sit. Instead he hunched over the bench, a position that allowed some comforting fidgeting that oddly made it easier for him to concentrate.

Offhandedly, he suddenly wondered if he would have done better in school if he hadn't been confined to a desk all day.

Finally, he put pencil to paper and began to write.

* * *

 _May 30, 1970_

 _Two-Bit,_

 _I want to tell you that you never had to say sorry to me. You should know that. I get why I was your only option but I hope you know that I'm glad that you reached out to me. Not glad that your going through this but glad that your trying to talk about it. keepin it all inside is just gonna eat you up inside. You gotta let this out. Write me whenever you can. Tell me how your feeling without holding anything back. I can take it. I understand this ain't easy for you. And if this is what you need to help you get threw this then I'm happy you reach out._

 _You are stronger than you think Two-Bit. I promise you that. I know you don't see it but it really is true. I know you feel hopeless now but this isn't forever. One year isn't that much time when you think of a person's whole life. This year will pass and your gonna come home to us and we'll help put you back together. I promise. You just gotta survive until then. And I know you can do that. I know you can watch your back and keep your head down and do what you need to do so that you come home._

 _I'm gonna put the address for the gas station on the back of this paper. I want you to send letters to me to that address and I'll get them there. That way there isn't the chance of Darry or Pony getting it before I can. This will stay between me and you Two-Bit. Just please keep writing me, okay? Keep letting it out. You know I don't write good but I'll do my best to respond to every letter and hopefully help you to get threw this._

 _Stay strong Two-Bit. I'll talk to you soon._

 _Sodapop Curtis_

* * *

Soda straightened as he looked down at his letter. His eyes flitted to Two-Bit's letter laying next to it. Two-Bit's letter was definitely longer than Soda's, but he hoped that wouldn't matter. It took a lot of effort for him to get just that much onto paper and he hoped that the effort would be appreciated by Two-Bit of all people.

He knew it would be a small comfort. But he hoped and prayed it would be enough to help him survive the next ten months. He didn't blame Two-Bit for wanting to break. He had always been more sensitive than he ever let on. Though he would never turn his back to a Greaser in need, he was not one that was necessarily prone to violence. He would act out in other ways with his drinking, gambling and stealing. But for the life of him, Soda couldn't imagine happy-go-lucky Two-Bit with a gun in his hand. And that thought brought on another thought uninvited.

He couldn't imagine Darry with a gun in his hand either.

Soda turned his back to the worktable and leaned back against it, burying his face in his hands as he felt the now familiar wave of devastation crashing over him. He couldn't imagine Darry being taken away from them like this. He couldn't imagine how he was going to continue to support Pony through school on his own. He couldn't imagine having to wonder whether or not Darry would come back to them every day for a whole year.

But just a few days ago, draft numbers 78, 79 and 80 had been called to service. So even though he couldn't imagine it, it was also painfully obvious that – barring some kind of miracle truce in his bloody war – this was going to be their inevitable reality in the near future.

 _101_.

Darry was the oldest brother, he was the one that not only him and Pony relied on, but the one that the whole gang relied on. And Soda felt overwhelmed thinking he might have to step up into that role. And he was so afraid that he would never be able to live up to what Darry was to them.

He knew it was selfish to think like that. He knew that it could be worse, knew that he himself could be facing the threat of being forced to go overseas to fight in a war he knew next to nothing about. Staying behind and baring the burden of supporting a brother who was already of age seemed very trivial in comparison to what Darry would face… what Two-Bit was already facing…

But, if he was being brutally honest with himself, there were nights where he did wish that he could trade places with Darry. Wished that it was him rather than his older brother who was being faced with this obstacle.

After all… wasn't it the middle sibling that was supposed to be expendable?

And in truth, given the opportunity, wouldn't he trade his life for Darry's in a heartbeat? Hadn't that already been proven when him and Steve had gone with Two-Bit to the recruitment office downtown just a few months ago? They had known going in that setting foot in that office when they had no intentions of actually enlisting was risky. They had heard the stories about how persuasive the enlistment officers could be, not wanting to take no for an answer as they tried to fill their quotas.

Darry had been worried about Steve, and with good reason as it had turned out. Soda had been able to see in his eyes that he was tempted to enlist with Two-Bit, especially when the officer had pointed out that he would be able to watch his buddy's back. Soda had been able to talk him out of it and sent him outside for a smoke while Two-Bit was finishing up his paperwork.

It was then he had posed the question that had been burning inside of him ever since the draft lottery just a few nights before.

" _Can I just ask a question?" Soda said hesitatingly. He didn't miss the sideways look that Two-Bit shot him, but he pointedly kept his gaze trained on the recruitment officer sitting behind the desk._

" _Sure," the officer answered easily. The smile he offered him seemed a bit too big, bordering on eager._

 _Soda paused, organizing his thoughts and then taking a deep breath before he spoke._

" _Is it… is it possible to switch draft numbers with someone?"_

 _The officer paused at that, his smile fading slightly as he thought that over. Clearly, he wasn't pleased by the question, which Soda suspected meant he was going to get about the answer that he had expected._

" _Unfortunately, draft numbers are not transferrable," the officer finally admitted reluctantly._

" _But why not?" Soda persisted, even though he had suspected that would be the case when the idea had first occurred to him. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. "You still get the same number of bodies out there, right? What do you care which draftees go when?"_

" _I'm sorry, but it's out of our hands," the man told him. "The numbers are assigned by a much higher department than ours and they don't allow any deviations. But if you'd like to enlist with your buddy, we could always—"_

" _Save it," Soda cut him off, though he couldn't keep the flat note of disappointment out of his tone. "I'm not interested in that."_

 _Because if Darry's number did end up getting called up, there was no way that Soda was going to leave Pony here alone._

To his knowledge, Two-Bit hadn't mentioned what had happened to anyone. With how he had been dealing with what was happening to him, Soda wouldn't be surprised if he didn't even remember the exchange. It hardly mattered though. He had been firmly denied his request to trade places with Darry. There was nothing he could do to change this situation.

He allowed himself several minutes to let his emotions overwhelmed him. Then he forced himself to take several deep breaths as he turned and folded up the two letters on the worktable. Two-Bit's letter was shoved into his pocket for safe keeping while his letter was carefully folded as he headed for the store part of the station in order to track down and envelope.

The rest of the day passed agonizingly slowly. As much as he was grateful for the privacy that he needed to write his letter to Two-Bit, he found that he missed Steve in the afternoon. Being left alone with his thoughts made him clumsier than usual. He ended up accidentally cutting his hand pretty good on a sharp edge of one of the cars he was working on. He hardly paused in order to wrap a relatively clean towel around the wound though before getting back to work.

He was the first one home that night. That wasn't unusual these days. Darry had made it more of a habit than usual to pick up extra hours at work, even though it wasn't strictly necessary. Pony also had several evening classes, meaning he tended to get home late as well.

When he got home, Soda paused long enough to replace the towel on his hand with a clean bandage before he headed to the kitchen to start on dinner, knowing both his brothers would be hungry when he got home. Steve was usually there for this part of the evening, not going so far as to help cook but at least sitting in the kitchen with Soda and chatting with him while he worked.

The silence in the house was eerie. It reminded him how small their gang was these days.

Darry was home first, but he headed right to the bathroom in order to shower. Soda had the vague thought that he probably should have showered as well when he had gotten home. He shook off the thought though, figuring he'd just do it later.

"Hey," Pony greeted as he entered the kitchen soon after Darry had shown up, looking worn.

"Hey," Soda said. "Help me set the table?"

"Sure," Pony said as he move forward immediately to help.

There was an awkward silence as they moved plates and food to the table.

"How was your day?" Soda asked, trying to break the silence.

Pony shrugged one shoulder, not really looking at him. "It was okay. Really long. I got a lot of homework to work on too." He paused, looking like he was debating if he was going to go on. After a minute, he did. "I stopped by the campus bookstore today after class. Filled out an application. They're looking for help."

Soda paused at this, but really couldn't say he was surprised. If Darry got drafted he would still be making some money, but until he was actually deployed overseas it wouldn't be as much as he was making now. That would be at least three months of Soda and Pony trying to make up the difference in order to keep Pony in school as well as food on the table and a roof over their heads. Soda swallowed and then nodded.

"Just part time, right?" he said. "Wouldn't interfere with your classes?"

Pony nodded. "Yeah. It would just be for a few hours before and after classes."

"Good," Soda said. "Just make sure you keep your full-time status, okay?"

 _Because we don't know if you're gonna get drafted or not._ That sentiment went without saying.

"Yeah, I know," Pony agreed flatly, clearly having heard what was deliberately not said.

Soda let the subject drop, knowing they were straying dangerously close to a subject neither of them wanted to talk about.

Darry joined them just after they finished setting the table and they had a quiet dinner together. Soda kept on glancing at his brothers, wondering what they were thinking about. He wanted to break the silence, but suddenly the words from Two-Bit's letter were echoing in his head.

 _I've only been here for about two months, I still have ten more months to go. I dunno how I'm gonna do it. I dunno how I'm going to last that long._

Soda wished so badly that there was some way he could fix this. He wished so bad that this wasn't so out of his hands.

Soda and Pony were cleaning up dinner when Darry went out for the mail, which all three of them had neglected to check when they had come home. He returned a few minutes later, flipping through the stack with a slight frown on his face that meant there were bills in the pile.

"Looks like we got a letter from Two-Bit," Darry announced as he reached the bottom of the stack, a slight smile gracing his lips at this news.

Pony immediately went to Darry while Soda froze in place, his stomach twisting into a knot. He hoped it wasn't one that was meant for just him, perhaps being sent when Two-Bit had gotten tired of waiting for a reply. Guilt at taking so long to write back suddenly wracked through him. As Pony tore open the envelope, Soda forced himself to move. Pony was already reading the letter as Soda tried his best to seem as casual as possible as he picked up the discarded envelope from the table. He had to hold back a sigh of relief as he saw that it was addressed to "The Curtis Family."

This one was meant for all of them. This was the one was the lie that Two-Bit would tell in order to make his time aboard seem not so bad.

"Sounds like he's doin' okay," Pony announced, handing the letter off to Darry for him to read. "Seems like he's in good spirits, anyway."

"That's a relief," Darry admitted, even as he started reading. "I was worried. We haven't heard from him much since he finished boot camp."

"Well, he's probably got less time to write over there," Pony pointed out. "Plus, it takes longer for letters to get here. Look, it's dated a few weeks ago."

Darry nodded vaguely as he eyes carefully shifted over the letter.

Soda took a deep breath before he started heading for the door.

"Where you goin', Soda?" Darry asked, looking up and fully at him for what Soda thought might be the first time since he had gotten home. "Don't you wanna read Two-Bit's letter? I'm almost done."

"I'll read it later," Soda lied, with a dismissive wave of his unbandaged hand. In truth, he had no desire to read that particular letter, knowing what he knew about what Two-Bit was really going through. "I'm gonna grab a shower."

Darry raised an eyebrow at him, but seemed to quickly shrug off any concern over this out of character behavior as he took in the fact that Soda was still wearing his oil and grease stained work uniform.

"Okay," he finally said as his eyes went back to study the letter in his hand.

At the dismissal, Soda turned and strode quickly out of the room.

He headed for the bathroom, but as he closed the door behind him, he found that he didn't have the energy to take a shower, suddenly feeling as if there were a weight hanging over him. Instead, he just leaned over the sink, washing most of grease and oil that he could see. Feeling satisfied – at least over his level of personal hygiene – he left the bathroom and headed to his room to change into clean clothes.

As he closed the bedroom door behind him, he glanced around the room. A few years ago, after Pony hadn't had a nightmare in a long time, they had decided that Pony didn't need him to sleep with him every night anymore. It was a part of growing up, Soda supposed. Soda had moved into Darry's room while Darry had moved into their parents' old room.

Soda discarded his work clothes and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He had planned to go back out to living room to spend time with Darry and Pony, he really had. After all, with all of them so busy it seemed they didn't get to see much of each other anymore. But as he sat on his bed, he couldn't help but feel the weight of the day pushing down on him. It didn't take him long to give in to the pull, crawling into bed and curling up on his side.

He figured he'd just rest his eyes… just for a minute…

And that was his last thought before he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"Soda, you okay?" Pony asked.

Darry looked up suddenly at the question, his eyes going to Pony first before drifting over to Soda. His normally hyperactive brother was slumped over his dinner, his elbows both braced heavily on the table. He didn't appear to have eaten much on his plate, instead just pushing the food around as he watched it through half-lidded eyes.

He looked up at Pony's question and leaned back heavily in his seat.

"Just tired," he mumbled.

Darry studied him for a moment before he reached over and placed the back of his hand on Soda's forehead.

"You feel warm," he told him. Then he sighed resignedly as he let his hand drop. "I bet you caught that flu from Steve. Why don't you go lay down? I'll bring you some medicine."

"Yeah, okay," Soda agreed.

Darry raised his eyebrows at his brother as he watched him slowly push himself up and out of his seat. Soda never agreed to taking it easy, even when he was sick. That alone told Darry just how badly he was feeling.

As Soda headed for the door, Darry stood and began to gather the plates, intending clean up a bit before getting Soda some medicine. He was just turning when out of the corner of his eye he noticed Soda stumbling. He was still turning back toward Soda, more confused than anything, when Soda's legs suddenly went out from under him.

"Soda!" Darry gasped at the same time that Pony yelled the same thing.

In his haste, the two plates slipped from Darry's hands, crashing to the floor, but he paid that no attention as he rushed to his younger brother's side.

Soda had fallen to his knees, though he had collapsed close enough to the doorway that he had been able to reach out and grab the frame to save his upper body from following his decent completely. Darry went to his knees next to him, holding out his hands in case he started to fall farther, but afraid to touch him because he was unsure what exactly had just happened. Pony was hovering just at Darry's shoulder, looking down at them worriedly.

"Soda?" Darry said carefully.

Soda was blinking in confusion, but blessedly he was still clearly conscious. He looked over at Darry and then carefully shifted himself around so that he was sitting less awkwardly on the floor.

"I'm… I'm okay," he said, though his voice was unsteady.

"What happened?" Darry asked, looking him up and down.

"I… I dunno?" Soda said. He lifted his hand and rubbed his eyes before look at Darry again. "I was just really dizzy all of a sudden."

But Darry's gaze had snagged on Soda's hand that he had dropped back into his lap. There was a white bandage that circled this hand, covering most of his palm. He furrowed his brow as he looked at it.

"Soda?" Darry said, drawing Soda's attention back to him. "What's that?"

Soda followed his gaze and then lifted the hand and looked at it as if he had completely forgotten about the injury.

"My hand snagged on the corner of a piece of metal at work," he said, sounding a bit steadier than he had before. That was a bit reassuring anyway.

But still, Darry was confused because he had been home for an hour, sitting at the same table as Soda and hadn't take any notice of the bandage.

"When did that happen?" Darry asked.

"Uh," Soda hummed as he thought. "The day before yesterday. Just after lunch."

That took Darry completely by surprise. "The day _before_ yesterday?" he repeated incredulously. Soda only nodded his head in confirmation.

Darry racked his brain, trying to think. He had had dinner with his brother the night before yesterday as well as last night. He had seen him off to work the last two mornings. How was it he was only now noticing this injury? How had he of all people not noticed over the course of _two_ whole days?

"Why didn't you say anything?" Darry asked.

Soda shrugged. "Didn't seem important. It wasn't that bad,"

"Did you clean it?" Darry persisted. "Use any antibiotics or peroxide?"

Soda blinked at him blankly for a moment, which pretty much gave Darry his answer. He really shouldn't be surprised. Soda had a habit of writing off injuries as insignificant and had never been very good about taking care of them himself, generally living by the _'it'll probably be fine'_ philosophy.

"I showered yesterday…" he finally said lamely, as if there were some universe in which that would be sufficient.

Darry couldn't help but roll his eyes at that. "Soda, that's not good," he said with exasperation. "It's probably infected. That's probably why you have a fever and feel lightheaded." He sighed. "C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up and see what we're dealing with here."

Darry stood and then reached back down, grasping Soda's bicep in order to help pull him up to his feet.

"I'll clean up in here," Pony spoke up.

"Thanks, Pony," Darry said, sending his youngest brother a grateful smile.

Darry kept his hand on Soda's arm as he led him to the bathroom, as he still seemed a bit unsteady. And judging by the fact that Soda didn't even try to shrug him off or insist that he could walk on his own, it was probably for the best. And that was concerning to say the least.

"Here," Darry said as he put the cover down on the toilet and gestured vaguely at it. "Sit."

"It's not that bad, Darry," Soda said, even as he obeyed. There wasn't a lot of conviction behind his tone though. "It's just a scratch. I probably just have the flu, like Steve did."

"Yeah, we'll see," Darry said flatly, not at all convinced. He leaned down and pulled the first aid supplies out from under the sink. Then he kneeled in front of Soda. "Let me see."

Soda sighed, but obediently held out his hand. He immediately recognized Soda's haphazard method of bandaging. He frowned, suddenly cursing Steve's illness. He knew Soda's best friend would have at least made sure the wound had been cleaned and bandaged better. Just like if it had been Steve with the injury, Soda would have made sure it had been taken care of. Both shared the instinct to take care of others more than they bothered to take care of themselves, even if Steve hid that instinct better.

Rather than bothering to try and untie the knot in the gauze, Darry instead just ripped the material. He didn't miss the way that Soda winced slightly as the action jerked his hand a bit. He filed that observation away for later as he began to unwrap Soda's hand.

The top layers came away easily enough. But as Darry got to the final layer, he found that the material did not want to come away as easily, having adhered to the wound. With an experimental tug and an almost audible gasp from Soda, Darry sighed and let his hands fall away. He stood and silently turned on the sink, letting the water run for a minute until it was warm.

"C'mon, this'll help," Darry said, indicating the water.

For a moment Soda didn't move. Then, slowly, he reached over to the side of the sink in order to help lever himself back up to his feet. Darry reached out to help him, but strangely Soda shook his head.

"I can do it," he mumbled, sounding a bit annoyed.

"Okay," Darry said skeptically, taking a step back to give Soda room, but still ready to step in if his brother appeared unsteady.

He watched as Soda put his hand with the soiled bandage under the warm water, letting it help loosen the blood that had dried to the bandage. It took a few minutes before he was able to pull the bandage away, leaving it in the sink as he turned and sat back down on the lid of the toilet, looking worn by the small task.

"Okay, let's see," Darry said, making an effort to soften his tone. Something about Soda suddenly seemed… off. Even when he was sick, he was never usually this subdued.

Soda held his hand out again, but it was hard to tell much among the dried blood, so Darry quickly grabbed a rag and soaked it with water. Then he carefully started to clean Soda's hand. The cut went diagonally across his palm, starting at the base of his pointer finger and stretching down almost of the heel of his hand. It wasn't very deep though, so Darry could see why Soda hadn't been too concerned when it happened. However, despite that, as he wiped away the blood he could see that there was pus in the wound.

"It's definitely infected," Darry informed him. He looked up at Soda, noticing his hazy expression. The fever accompanying the infection in his hand was definitely concerning. It meant the infection had already spread into his blood stream. He looked back down at the wound, now noticing that there were red marks around the cut, streaking up his skin. He sighed. "I don't like this. I think we should go to the hospital and get you some better antibiotics."

"I don't need to go to the hospital for this little cut," Soda said. He probably should have sounded annoyed, but really at this point he only sounded tired.

"You wouldn't have if you had cleaned it properly when it first happened," Darry pointed out. "That fever you're runnin' means the infection already spread to your blood stream. We gotta get this under control before it gets worse, Soda. C'mon, we'll clean it and then I'll take you."

Soda provided no more resistance as he watched Darry clean the cut with peroxide with a sort of odd detachment. Darry kept telling himself that it was just the fever. Soda just wasn't feeling well, that's why he was acting like this.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else going on.

"Everything okay?" Pony asked as Darry and Soda finally emerged a short while later.

"Yeah," Darry told him. "Just to be safe though, I'm gonna take Soda to the hospital to get the infection treated."

Pony looked surprised by that. His gaze wandered to Soda, who was still uncharacteristically quiet, and then back to Darry.

"The hospital?" he said. "Really?"

"It's just a precaution, Pony," Darry tried to assure him. "Just to be safe."

"You want me to come with you?" Pony asked.

"No, you stay here and work on your homework," Darry said. "We shouldn't be too long. I'll call you if anything changes."

Pony looked unsure, but nodded anyway.

Darry helped Soda on with his shoes and then they headed out. He kept a hand on Soda's back to help keep him steady, but Soda managed to climb up into the truck on his own. The drive to the hospital was silent. Darry kept on glancing over at Soda to made sure he was still awake. He was leaning his head against the window, staring vacantly at what seemed like nothing in particular.

Thankfully, the emergency room wasn't too busy that night. Soda was immediately given a bed, which he almost seemed grateful to climb into. His blood was drawn in order to make sure nothing more serious than just a run of the mill infection was going on. Then he was hooked up to an IV and given an antibiotic drip. After that, all there was to do was wait.

Darry had settled himself in a chair next to Soda's bed. He got the feeling that Soda wasn't up for small talk, so he leaned back in his chair and prepared himself for a quiet wait.

"I'm sorry, Dare…"

It took Darry a moment to realize that Soda had finally spoken after almost a half hour of silence. He looked over at him and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"For what?" Darry asked, honestly confused.

Soda swallowed and then shifted uncomfortably in the bed. Suddenly, Darry's twenty-one-year-old brother looked so painfully young. Darry sat up and leaned forward a bit, feeling concerned by the sudden shift.

"I…" Soda started and then trailed off. He paused and then tried again. "I shouldn't have needed your help."

That took Darry a moment to really process. It was not at all what he had expected to hear and for a solid minute he honestly had no idea how to respond to it.

"It's okay, though," he tried to assure his currently bedridden brother. "I'm sorry if I came down too hard on you at home, I was just worried about you. You know I don't mind helping you. That's what my job is, that's what a big brother's for."

But Soda was shaking his head.

"You shouldn't of had to…" he mumbled, almost as if he were talking to himself.

"Soda… what's going on?" Darry asked. Because clearly he was missing something in this whole situation.

Soda sighed as his gaze dropped down to look at his hands. "What if… what if you weren't here?" he said quietly. That quiet comment might as well have been a punch to the gut the way that Darry winced. "What if we can't rely on your help?"

Darry was quiet for several minutes. It was a fair question. After all, with only twenty-one numbers between the last one called and his, it stood to fair reason that Darry only had a few weeks left before he was called to service.

He leaned forward and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had been trying very hard not to think about that.

It was Soda who finally broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Darry," he said softly.

"Don't be sorry," Darry said. He took a fortifying breath. "I know we don't talk about this much. But that doesn't mean you have to bottle up how you're feeling. It's okay to be scared about what's going to happen."

"I just… I just wish I was going instead of you," Soda admitted, and Darry knew the fever was to blame for the suddenly blunt honesty. "You need to be _here_ , Darry. Everyone needs you _here_."

"Soda…" Darry said, suddenly pained by this revelation. "Glory, you don't really wish that, do you?" In his silence, Darry got his answer. Darry reached out a careful hand, placing it on Soda's hand and waiting until he looked at him before he spoke again. "You listen to me. _None_ of us are expendable. We are _all_ needed here. It would be just as painful if you were goin' as it is with me."

"Yeah but…" Soda murmured. He looked away. "I can't be _you_ , Darry."

Darry sucked in a breath at that. "Hey, that's not what's going on here, okay? You shouldn't try and be me. Just be you, okay, Soda? You are enough just the way you are." He sighed. "Look at me, little buddy." He waited until Soda turned and met his eyes. He was carefully blinking back tears. "I know it's not going to be easy. But you guys are gonna be okay. All three of you. Plus Two-Bit when he gets home. You're all gonna band together and you'll take care of each other."

Soda nodded, though he didn't look comforted. "I know that," he said. "I've always known that. But… that just doesn't make this any easier. Because even though we're gonna be okay… it doesn't mean Two-Bit is. It doesn't mean you are. I guess it's just easier for now to dwell on us here. Rather than what might happen… out there."

"I know," was all Darry could say, feeling his throat constrict with emotion.

They lapsed into silence after that. There really wasn't anything left to say. There were no words to make the situation any better.

They waited quietly until a doctor came to tell them that other than the infection, Soda's bloodwork came back fine. After the IV was finished, they were given some strong antibiotic pills for Soda to take over the course of the next week, and then they were sent home. Partway home, Soda nodded off in the passenger seat, clearly exhausted from the whole ordeal.

As Darry pulled into the driveway, he shut off the engine and leaned back in his seat. He didn't have the heart to wake Soda yet. He didn't have the energy to face Pony's worry yet. He just needed a moment to himself to pull himself together.

Because he was scared. Scared of leaving his brothers, who had already lost so much in their short lives. Scared of leaving his home for the first time in his life. Scared of what he would have to do if he was drafted. Scared of not making it back home.

Darrel Curtis, who had been nicknamed "Superman" ever since he was fourteen years old, was too afraid to face what was to come. So, he sat there in limbo for as long as he could, willing time to slow down, willing the weight to be lifted from him shoulders, if only for a moment. It was a small comfort that wouldn't last, but he would take what he could.

The moment passed far too quickly, and then it was time to face reality again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** I LIVVVVEEEE! So sorry for how long this took you guys! My surgery went really well and I was all ready to jump back into my intense typing routine at the end of April… but then life happened. I got sucked into some family drama at the same time that shit really hit the fan at work. It's been a whirlwind of a couple weeks… but I was FINALLY able to sit down and get back into this story again! I thank you all for your patience! We're nearing the end of this, probably with only a chapter or two left. I hope to not leave you hanging for too long this time!

Special shout outs to **Zarak** ; **hgismylife379** ; **HappierThanMost** ; **BlondeMess** ; **FireGoddess101** ; **S** ; **mworth1019** ; and **LunarFullbuster25** for taking the time to leave a review for the last chapter! It is GREATLY appreciated! Remember, I do this for you guys! So please continue to give me your feedback! :)

And, without further ado, on to the next chapter!

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

"Well, the bad news is, you're gonna live."

"Fucking tragic," Two-Bit said dryly. He popped a cigarette in his mouth and then using that same hand he pulled a zippo out of his pocket and lit it.

"Careful with that," the medic said, shooting him a disapproving look. "You're really not supposed to smoke in here. We've got all kinds of flammable shit."

"Then hurry the hell up," Two-Bit muttered around the cigarette, jerking his head toward the gash in his arm that the medic was stitching up.

The medic rolled his eyes as he grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the thread.

"You're done," he told him as he busied himself with cleaning up his supplies. "Next time, try and lean in to the bullet just a little. If it had hit a little deeper we coulda claimed muscle damage and been able to send you the hell outta this shit hole."

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind during the next fire fight," Two-Bit grumbled sarcastically as he slid off the exam table.

Without another word, he headed out of the medical tent. He paused, blinking into the bright sunlight, letting the flow of people on the military base pass around him as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the sudden change in lighting. He squinted up into the sky as a couple jets screamed by overhead. He tracked their progression out into the distance for several minutes. He could just hear the rumble from the explosions after they disappeared from view. Nobody around him had a reaction, as this had become a normal part of their day as the enemy was trying to push closer to their base. He inhaled deeply off his cigarette, as if he were trying to breathe in something more than just smoke.

God, he hated this place.

"Matthews!" Two-Bit glanced over to see a guy from his unit, Anderson, heading toward him through the crowd. "You missed mail call. This came for you."

"Thanks," Two-Bit said shortly as he took the offered envelope without giving it much of a glance.

"We're starting up a poker game back behind the mess hall," Anderson went on. "You in?"

"Yeah, I'll get in on that in a bit," Two-Bit said. "Gotta stop by my bunk first."

"Sure," Anderson said with a nod as he headed off. "See you over there."

Two-Bit nodded as he started off in the direction of his unit's tent. He had noticed that lately he had somehow become a man of few words. It was strange, but he was finding it harder and harder to string together more than a simple sentence or two. He was just so damn tired. Tired of getting up at the ass crack of dawn every morning, tired of being separated from his friends and family, and tired of having to fight in a war that he didn't have any stake in.

As he entered the tent that served as the unit's bunkhouse, he was relieved to find that the area was deserted. It was exceedingly rare to get any kind of alone time. As much as he looked forward to restocking his stash of cigarettes at the poker game, he decided to take his time and take advantage of the rare opportunity of not being watched.

He headed over to his cot, a bottom bunk toward the back of the tent. He sat heavily on the foot of the bed so that he could reach over into his footlocker. He had to dig for a minute before he could pull out the stack of envelopes that were held together by a worn rubber band. He stared at the stack, frowning.

The top three envelopes hadn't been opened.

Lately, he had found that it was getting harder to read the letters from home. The words scrawled on the pages served as a painful reminder how far out of touch he was from his friends and family. They all thought he was doing well. He had made sure they thought that, and so their letters had less worry and more mundane updates about things that were going on back home.

That should have been a relief to him. Hadn't that been what he had wanted?

But the truth was that he wasn't doing okay. He had fallen into a routine here, he was surviving, but at the same time he felt like he was losing more and more of who he had been by the day. Happy-go-lucky Two-Bit seemed like a distant memory, replaced by Private Matthews who had a dry sense of humor and a jaded view of the world around him… who found it difficult to care about the mundane day to day of the people back home. And that made him feel like a horrible person, a person he hardly even recognized anymore.

He looked down at the envelope that he had just received. He recognized the messy handwriting that would have looked at home on the homework of a first grader before he noticed that the return address was for the DX. This was a letter specifically from Sodapop.

He sighed as he ran an anxious hand through his hair, still not used to the short, military crew cut.

Guilt gnawed away inside of him. Though he knew he hadn't had much of a choice, he hated that he had put this on Soda of all people. Soda was the only one who knew what he was really going through out here, and – not that Soda ever said as much – he could read between the lines in his letters and knew that the knowledge weighed heavily on him.

He put his stack of letters in his lap so that he could hold Soda's new letter in both hands. He stared hard down at it. He had one letter from his sister and two letters from the gang, both obviously transcribed by Ponyboy, that were sitting unopened in his pile. So far, he had opened all of Soda's letters.

So, why was he suddenly hesitating?

As he smoked his cigarette down to the butt, he flicked it down to the dirt floor and stepped on it. He immediately pulled out his pack and shook out his second to last cigarette. He put the letter down in the pile so that he could light up… and couldn't find the will in him to pick it up again. He didn't want to read Soda's reassurances right now. He didn't want to feel the guilt of making Soda do this for him right now.

He sighed heavily as he carefully slipped the letter into the rubber band along with the rest of the letters. He'd try again later. Maybe after he got some normalcy playing poker he would feel more up to handling news from home.

With an effort, he pushed himself back to his feet and headed back out of the tent.

* * *

Darry looked up from what he was doing as he heard the front door slam. He glanced into the living room to make sure Soda and Pony were still there. Pony had been off from school that day and Darry had been off from work, but both had been surprised when Soda had come home early from work, looking worn. He said he hadn't slept well the night before and Steve had told him he'd cover for him, so him and Pony were sprawled out on the floor of the living room playing a rather subdued game of cards.

"Here you go kid," he heard Steve's voice filter in from the other room. "Try and make it last a few days, huh?"

"You didn't lift those from our store, did you?" he could hear Soda ask.

"Do I look like a moron to you?"

"You really don't want me to answer that."

There was the sound of a playful scuffle as Darry went back to working on scraping a decent dinner together. A minute later the noise quieted and then Steve appeared in the kitchen.

"Hey Darry," he said as he approached. "Got somethin' for you."

He dug a wad of crumpled bills out of his pocket and put it on the counter next to where Darry was working.

"Thanks, Steve," he said. Since Steve was indefinitely crashing on their couch after leaving his dad's house when he was eighteen, Darry only felt marginally guilty taking money from him as he tried to stock up an emergency fund for Soda and Pony.

And he was very deliberate to not ask where the money was coming from. Because he knew that it wasn't all from Steve's paycheck.

"I also got the kid a few packs of smokes," Steve went on. "Should keep him content for at least a few days if he's cuttin' back like he said he's gonna."

Darry only nodded, turning his focus back to the task at hand. He had expected Steve to head back to the living room to join Pony and Soda's card game. But oddly, he didn't move. Finally Darry glanced at him, arching an eyebrow.

"Somethin' else on your mind, Steve?" he prompted.

"Has Soda seemed… _off_ to you lately?" Steve asked carefully in a low voice.

Darry shot a look toward the living room where Soda and Pony sat and then sighed.

"We've all been off since Two-Bit left," he pointed out tiredly. He felt a pang as he couldn't help but think about the fact that they hadn't received a letter from Two-Bit in weeks. He knew he couldn't dwell on that though as he forcibly pushed it from him mind.

"I know that," Steve said, an edge in his tone before he seemed to consciously try and soften it. "But in just the past couple weeks, Soda has just seemed… distracted. Like something's bothering him but he won't say what."

"Well," Darry hedged. "You know, as the numbers keep gettin' called…" He couldn't finish the statement. His number was coming up. They all knew that it was inevitable at this point. He took a deep breath and then forcibly changed the direction of his thought, knowing Steve would understand what he had been about to say. "And then we still don't even know what Pony's number is gonna be."

"I get that, Darry," Steve said, and Darry was sure he must have imagined the hint of sympathy in his voice. "But we're all in on both of those things, you know? If that's what's really bothering him, why won't he admit it?"

"I dunno what to tell you, Steve," Darry said, shaking his head.

Steve just looked at him in surprise for a moment. He opened his mouth to say something, but then snapped it shut again. He seemed to think it over for a moment before he went to speak again.

"Okay," he said slowly. "Just… do me a favor. I know this is hard on you, knowing your number is gettin' called soon. I get it. But… just don't check out on us yet, okay? You're still here… so maybe start actin' like it." And with that he turned on his heel and headed out of the room.

Darry was left starting after him in shock. It was like a punch to the gut.

He had known that he was slipping a few months ago when Soda had cut his hand and Darry hadn't noticed until infection had set in. He had resolved to do better by his bothers, which he had for a few weeks. But as more numbers were called, it was a little too easy to slip back into a distracted state, his head constantly feeling like it was filled with fog. It was hard to concentrate, hard to notice things around him.

But Steve was right. He had to force himself to realize that he was not the only one effected by this. He had to do right by his brothers… while he still could.

As he set the table, he was brutally reminded of that fact. He moved the newspaper, which had been abandoned there that morning after he had barely perused it. The headline halfway down the front page still screamed obnoxiously at him… " _Numbers 88, 89, and 90 of the Draft Lottery Called to Service_." He tossed the paper into the garbage with more force than was strictly necessary. He knew he'd be lucky to have a few weeks left before his own number appeared in a headline.

 _101._

After clearing the table and moving the food, he called the others in for dinner. He silently reminded himself to make an effort to be more aware of his brothers, feeling ashamed that he even needed the reminder. As they walked into the kitchen he consciously looked at each of them, looking for any signs that anything was off. Or at least more off than usual.

Pony was putting on a good face, but he was clearly nervous. That was understandable, given what was soon to happen.

Soda was a different story. As Darry really took notice of him, he saw that Soda's expression seemed carefully neutral, something that was wildly out of character for his middle brother. There were a number of emotions that he could imagine making sense for Soda right now. Not one of them could be detected in his features.

Soda had always been one to wear his emotions on his sleeve. This guarded yet blank expression was something Darry couldn't remember ever seeing from him.

"Soda, you feelin' okay?" Darry asked as casually as he could as they were all taking seats at the table.

Soda glanced over at him, clearly surprised by the question. Clearly surprised that Darry had noticed. That thought caused Darry's stomach to turn uncomfortably. Had he really been that distant lately?

It was suddenly painfully clear just how much he had been dropping the ball lately.

"Uh, yeah," Soda said, not quite meeting his gaze. "I'm just tired is all. I didn't sleep well last night."

"Maybe you should take the day off tomorrow," Darry suggested. "You've been workin' an awful lot lately and honestly you ain't lookin' so good."

Normally that statement would have gotten a snarky comeback from his middle brother about how he was in fact looking damn good, as always. But the usual comment didn't come.

"I'll be alright," Soda said instead. "I just need some sleep tonight and I'll be better tomorrow."

"Alright, little buddy," Darry said, though he wasn't at all convinced. But, for now, he felt like all he could do was let it go.

He shared a look with Steve, one that thankfully went unnoticed by both his brothers. The look Steve gave him sent a clear message: _I told you so_. Darry gave him a very slight nod, acknowledging that he had been right and that he would do what he could to figure out what was really bothering Soda.

It was a quiet dinner, even more so than had become normal these days. There were some weak attempts at conversation – mostly initiated by Steve of all people – but for the most part they all ate in relative silence, each lost in his own thoughts.

This night was different from all the rest. This night held a weight that was all its own.

Pony offered to clean up after dinner, but Darry firmly sent him to the living room, assuring him that he could handle it. Steve followed close behind, but Darry held Soda back as he tried to follow.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Darry asked in an undertone now that it was just the two of them. Darry hoped that Soda might be more open to talking about what was on his mind if he didn't have an audience.

"I'm as okay as any of us are right now," Soda insisted. "Why do you keep askin'?"

"You just seem… like you've got somethin' more on your mind," Darry said carefully.

"Well… despite everythin', you can't tell me that you're not worried about what's gonna happen tonight," he said quickly as he shoved his hands in his pockets, again not meeting Darry's gaze.

But it was something that Darry really couldn't deny. Despite all their assurances to Pony, Darry couldn't help but feel helpless anxiety for what was to come.

Today was July 1st, 1970. Tonight, they would finally find out what Ponyboy's draft number would be.

Darry took a deep breath, deciding that they could only worry about one thing at a time. He knew that this was not the only thing on Soda's mind, that something more was clearly bothering him, but tonight was the night to be concerned about Pony. Because, no matter how many times both him and Soda assured Ponyboy that he didn't need to worry about his draft number – being a full-time student meant that he should be able to defer the draft no matter what number he was assigned – they also didn't discuss the many things that could go wrong with that logic. Pony's grades could drop, he might have to drop classes in order to pick up more hours at work after Darry's departure to help pay bills, he might get sick and have to miss too many classes…

Being a full-time student wasn't always an ironclad guarantee of deferment.

Darry checked his watch. "Alright, little buddy," he said tiredly. "Let's go get this over with then."

 _One thing at a time,_ he reminded himself as he followed an all too subdued Sodapop into the living room.

Someone had already turned on the T.V. and tuned it to the right channel. Pony was sitting stiffly on the couch, his eyes already glued to the screen, while Steve was standing stoically next to the couch almost like a sentry.

Soda headed right for the couch, taking a seat next to Pony. He sent his younger brother an encouraging smile, but Darry noticed that it didn't quite meet his eyes.

Darry settled himself into the recliner, feeling dread like a dead weight inside his chest. The atmosphere was notably more tense than it had been before the first draft lottery seven months ago. Darry suspected that was because it felt more real this time, noticeable with the obvious absence of one of their own this time around.

The draft lottery had already proven that it could and would take people they cared about without prejudice.

"It's starting," Pony said quietly, though none of them needed the announcement, as all eyes were already on the television screen.

"Now, you know you don't need to worry, Pony, right?" Soda reminded him softly, reaching over to give Pony's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Your number hardly even matters while you're a full-time student."

Pony only nodded vaguely, his eyes still trained straight ahead, a grim look on his face.

The process was exactly the same as it had been seven months ago, to a painful degree. There was a clear container that held 366 blue capsules. A man that was clearly too old to be worried about being drafted picked the capsules one at a time, opening them to reveal a birthdate which was then assigned a draft number.

"The first birthdate is… July…" It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room as the man paused and squinted down at the piece of paper in his hand, "ninth." Pony let out the breath in a low hiss, but as Darry glanced over at him he could see that his hands were suddenly shaking where he had them clasped in his lap. "The second birthdate is… December twenty-fourth."

"Merry friggen Christmas," Steve murmured sarcastically under his breath.

"Number three will be… July…" there was another pause and Darry could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. "twenty-"

Darry was distracted from hearing the rest of the number as Pony suddenly gasped as his body pitched forward, almost falling completely off the couch. Luckily Soda was there to grab him, steadying him with a hand on each shoulder. Darry was suddenly on the edge of the recliner, automatically looking for some kind of visible injury on his brother before he realized what had happened.

"W-what?" Pony gasped, the panic barely contained in his tone. "W-what'd he say?"

Clearly, he hadn't heard which July twenty-something date had been called either. Thankfully, Soda had been paying attention.

"It's okay, Pony," Soda said quickly, wrapping an arm around his little brother. "That wasn't you. He said the twenty- _fifth_ , it wasn't you. You're okay, Ponyboy."

"Number four will be… July… twenty…" the pause seemed to stretch for an excessive amount of time, "ninth."

Pony dropped his head into his hands, looking completely miserable at having two dates called that were dangerously close to his birthday, and they weren't even five numbers in yet.

Steve swore loudly, making everyone jump a bit. "How damn _random_ is this thing when there's already been _two_ dates pulled at the end of July?" he demanded.

"Steve," Darry said calmly, though there was a distinct note of warning in his tone. "We could do without the commentary."

Steve huffed in annoyance, but thankfully kept any further comments to himself. He shifted and perched himself on the back of the couch, and Darry couldn't help but wonder if he realized the action positioned him closer to where Pony was sitting, putting their youngest solidly between him and Soda in an almost protective formation.

Darry had noticed lately that Steve had seemed less irritable toward Pony than he used to be. He could only hope that after he left, Steve would step up and help Soda look after Pony. He didn't care how old his kid brother got, Darry would always feel like he needed protecting from the rest of the world.

The draft lottery continued at a truly agonizing pace. He certainly didn't remember the previous lottery taking this long… but maybe it was just because they were only waiting to hear one date rather than four this time.

They assigned the first fifty draft numbers. Then one hundred. Then two hundred. The higher the numbers got, the more Darry could feel the tension in his chest unwinding. Surely the dates that were assigned numbers above two-hundred could be considered safe. He almost laughed in relief as they passed two-hundred and fifty… and then three hundred.

"And number three hundred and seven is… July twenty-second."

"Thank god," Darry couldn't help but breath on an exhale, almost as if he were talking to himself. He leaned forward, running a hand over his face as he felt a look of relief take over his features. Pony looked over him, a slight look of amusement on his face.

"I thought it hardly mattered what number I got," he said, a hint of teasing in his voice.

Darry couldn't help but laugh dryly at that. No matter how many times they had all said it, it had been clear that none of them had actually believed it didn't matter. The idea of their youngest brother getting drafted had weighed heavily on all of them.

A weight that was now lifted. It seemed against all odds, they had finally caught a break.

"Well, I think that means out of all of us, the kid wins the lottery," Steve said with a laugh, as it seemed even he wasn't able to hide his relief.

Darry was surprised as Soda disappeared and then reappeared brandishing an almost comically large chocolate cake, declaring that this was cause for celebration. He was glad that although Soda had also been distant lately, he had obviously still been optimistic over how this night was going to turn out.

For that night, in the wake of this small victory, they were able to forget everything. For that one night, the pressure from the draft and worry for their absent friend suddenly seemed like a distant memory. An intense game of poker was pulled together, using the chocolate cake instead of chips or money. They were able to smile and laugh and the cake was playfully thrown at each other as much as it was eaten. The game stretched late into the night with no regard for how early everyone had to be up the next morning. It was a night that was just like so many other nights before this draft had taken control over their lives.

It didn't last. None of them had really expected it to. As that night ended they were reminded that there was no escaping the reality of the situation, even if a small victory had given them a much needed reason to let go of everything at least for a little while.

However, it was an important night for the gang for so many reasons. But most of all it gave them hope. Hope that light could be found within the darkness. Hope that things could still go their way. Hope that if they made it through this with everyone still intact, that maybe someday they could achieve that level of normalcy once again.

And with Darry's draft number becoming more and more of an inevitability, they could use all of the hope that they could get.

 _101._


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Well. Hello there! I'm still here! First and foremost, I offer my most profound apologies for how long it's been. I have excuses and insight if you're interested in reading them.

There were a couple things that were really holding me back from completing this story. It was partly because I was distracted by an idea for another story in a different fandom, but ultimately, I think the main reason is that I've been avoiding this part. I have been so torn with how I wanted this to turn out that I kept on putting it off. I told you in the beginning that this story was a challenge for me and that I never pictured the Vietnam draft taking these two in particular from the gang. It was hard sending Two-Bit to war… it was even harder contemplating sending Darry to war. (And yes, I do in fact get this invested when I write!)

In the beginning, I had this idea in the back of my mind that I was going to get Darry out of this at the last minute. I was going to find a loophole in the draft and he wouldn't end up going. But after a lot of research I found that there was no realistic way to do it. I actually tried to ignore that fact and perhaps take my own liberties… but once I knew it, it just wouldn't leave my brain. So, I had to accept that Darry had to leave. And I had about as much success with accepting this idea as Pony and Soda do in this chapter.

Despite my struggles with this story, I'm overall proud of myself for taking it on and stretching myself passed what is comfortable. I'm strangely happy with how this has turned out even if it's not how I imagined it going. This was originally supposed to be the last chapter, but it's been sitting half finished for so long I decided I would go ahead and give you guys what I have so far. So, there will be one more chapter to this story in order to wrap things up… at some point!

Shout outs to those who reviewed the last chapter: **CriminalOutsider'sGirl14** ; **BlondeMess** ; **Zarak** ; **LunarFullbuster25** ; **cookieswafflesandfanfic** ; **HappierThanMost** ; **outsiders-stories-forever** ; and **Guest**! Thank you all for sticking with this, your support means everything to me!

 **HISTORICAL INACCURACY NOTE** : I recently figured out that enlistment was actually for two years, while being drafted meant that you only had to serve one year. So, obviously Two-Bit wouldn't have enlisted if it meant he had to serve longer, he would have just waited for his draft number. So, I'm taking artistic liberties, and Two-Bit's commitment when he enlisted was only for one year, starting after boot camp once he was shipped overseas.

Okay… without further rambling… here we go!

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

"You know, Darry's going to skin you alive when he finds out."

Pony looked up wearily, taking in Sodapop's disappointed expression. Once upon a time, the statement would have been made with a cheeky grin and a laugh. Those days were long passed though. And more than just disappointed, the middle brother suddenly looked tired and aged beyond his years. When had that happened?

"Then don't tell him."

Soda sighed lightly. "I thought we were past this," he said quietly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

Suddenly, Pony felt a pang of guilt. He leaned over and scrubbed both hands over his face, taking in a steadying breath before he looked back up at Soda.

"I… I'm sorry, Soda," he said weakly.

Soda gave another sigh, this one heavier than the last. "It's okay, Pony. C'mon, the guy isn't pressing charges. The cop said you're getting let off with a warning and I could take you home."

Pony squeezed his eyes closed as he swallowed thickly. Finally, he nodded as he heavily dragged himself to his feet and followed Soda out of the holding cell.

They were quiet as they left the police station. Pony followed Soda to where he had parked Steve's car and they climbed in. But instead of starting up the car, Soda just sat there in the driver's seat, frowning as he appeared to be staring at nothing in particular. Pony shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to handle this situation. This was a situation he had encountered with Darry before… but not Soda.

"Um," Pony said, reaching for something, anything to say. "I, uh… my car is still in the student lot."

Soda nodded, not looking at him. "I dropped Steve off there on the way over here. He'll drive it home."

Pony didn't need to point out that he still had the keys. He knew that Steve could hotwire the car that he had fixed up for him in a heartbeat. But he really couldn't explain the sudden sinking feeling in his stomach as he realized that meant he was stuck in the car for the next hour with Soda as they drove home from the town that his school was in.

It wasn't a feeling he normally associated with spending time with Soda. It was more like how he had felt being forced to spend time with Darry when he was younger.

"Look, I really am sorry, Soda," Pony tried again, unable to take the tension in the car. "I didn't mean for it to get so out of hand."

"Fighting at school, Ponyboy?" Soda finally said, glancing over at him. But he didn't look angry. Worse than that, he looked hurt and disappointed. Suddenly, Pony couldn't help but wonder if he would have been better off calling up Darry for a ride. "I thought you were smarter than that. They coulda kicked you out of school if that guy had decided to press charges."

"Well, it wouldn't really matter much, would it," Pony found himself saying bitterly before he could stop himself. "It's not like I need school to defer the draft or anything."

At that, Soda shot him a sharp look. "Really? You think that's all college is for? Deferring the goddamn draft?"

And now he sounded angry. _Way to go, Pony,_ he thought angrily to himself. _Now you've made it worse._

"You didn't even ask me for my side of the story," Pony pointed out quietly, his gaze dropping down to study his hands clasped in his lap.

There was a long pause in which Pony was afraid to even look to Soda for his reaction.

"Okay, Pony," Soda finally said, sounding regretful. "What's your side of the story?"

Pony took a deep breath. "I overheard some guys talking. Looked like a couple of Socs. One of them just had his number called up and he was complaining about all the steps he had to do in order to establish his deferment because he's a full-time student. The other guy said that he was glad he didn't have to bother with any of that even though he was only part time. His number came up months ago and his dad just made a phone call. That's when we had the argument and then… I hit him." _Knocked him to the ground and kept punching him until campus security pulled him off of the guy._ He didn't need to tell Soda that though.

A heavy silence filled the car. It was no secret that men who had money or connections were rarely drafted, even if their number was called up. It was one of the great injustices that was railed upon by guys in their neighborhood. The lower-class guys who had no choice when their number was called.

Pony had just lost it after hearing that conversation. How was it fair that this guy with the obviously privileged upbringing could defer the draft with just a phone call while they were facing losing their older brother who had worked so hard for so long at keeping them all together?

"Okay, Pony, I get it," Soda finally said reluctantly. "I probably woulda done the same thing." He paused. "But I have a lot less to lose than you do. You get that, right? I might spend a couple nights in the cooler, but you could lose this opportunity that no one in our neighborhood ever gets. All this would be wasted."

"I know," Pony admitted. "I'm just… having a hard time with this."

"We all are, Pony," Soda said flatly as he finally reached up and started the car, listening to the engine cough to life. "But we can't just throw everything away because of this. It's painful, but we gotta keep living our lives."

Pony nodded as they pulled out of the police station.

"So… are you gonna tell Darry?" Pony asked carefully.

Soda paused. "No," he finally said and Pony couldn't help but sigh in relief. One disappointed lecture had been enough for him. "Darry's got enough to worry about right now."

They rode for a while in silence. It wasn't until they hit the highway that Pony worked up to what he really wanted to ask.

"Soda… are _you_ okay?" he finally asked bluntly.

Soda glanced over at him in sudden surprise. "What do you mean?"

Pony paused, trying to figure out how to put his thoughts into words.

"You just said that we're _all_ struggling," he pointed out carefully. "And, well… you've been acting off lately."

He honestly wasn't sure how to word it any better than that. It was in the little things that Soda did where he could really notice the change. In the way that he hadn't initially asked for Pony's side of the story in this situation. In the way that he had seemed tired and aged beyond his years when he had walked into the holding cell.

But as Pony really thought about it, he could trace the oddities in Soda's behavior back even farther. He was more serious these days. The smile that used to light up a room only glowed dimly when it made a rare appearance. He didn't go out as much, even with Steve constantly trying to drag him to parties and drag races. Pony couldn't even remember the last time Soda had been on a date. Maybe before the first draft lottery? That was almost eight months ago now.

Yes, they were all taking this hard, but they were all also grudgingly going on with their lives. But, somehow it suddenly seemed like Soda was only going through the motions of what was expected of him. Pony had always known that his middle brother was more sensitive than he normally came across. But he couldn't help but feel like he was missing something.

"Well, yeah," Soda hedged, his eyes trained a little too carefully on the road. "I'm no happier about this than anybody else. It's… it's not gonna be easy. But we're gonna get through this together. I mean, we have the easier end of this deal compared to Darry and… and Two-Bit."

Pony's eyes cut across the car to really study his older brother. He really had him going until he had said Two-Bit's name. He stumbled on the name and said it a bit unsteadily. That was odd. In fact… now that Pony thought about it, it was the first time that he could remember Soda bringing up Two-Bit in months.

"It's been a few weeks since Two-Bit's last letter," Pony said, watching Soda carefully out of the corner of his eye as he spoke. His brother seemed to tense ever so slightly. "How do you think he's doin' over there?"

Soda swallowed and then shrugged one shoulder, studiously not even glancing in Pony's direction. "I know what you know, Pony. He seems to be doin' okay, all things considered."

Pony wished he could question Soda further. But the truth was he had no idea what he was looking for. He had no idea what more could be bothering Soda beyond what was bothering the rest of them. So, it seemed like the easiest thing to do was to just accept that Soda was just more sensitive to the situation than the rest of them.

After all… what other explanation could there be?

The rest of the ride home was very subdued. By the time they made it home night had fallen over the neighborhood. It was much later than he was supposed to be home. Pony was already shifting through excuses in his head, trying to figure out one so that he wouldn't have to tell Darry what really happened.

Steve was already there, leaning up against Pony's car parked on the curb, halfway through a cigarette.

"Darry home?" Soda asked as they climbed out of Steve's car. He was eyeing the darkened house.

"His truck's there," Steve said, nodding toward the vehicle parked in the driveway.

"It doesn't look like any lights are on though," Pony pointed out.

Steve shrugged. "You got me. I figured I should wait for you two to get here to hear about the story we're gonna tell him."

"We'll tell him Pony's car wouldn't start," Soda said. Pony couldn't help but be a little surprised by how easily the lie came to him. "We went up to help him out."

Steve snorted. "You know _I_ practically built that car, right?"

Soda shot him an impatient look. "Yeah. And _you_ know that Darry's not gonna overthink anything we tell him. He's got bigger things to worry about right now." And neither Steve nor Pony could argue that fact. It was the sad truth of their current situation. Soda took a deep breath. "C'mon."

Soda led the trio into the house to find that all the lights were indeed off. A flip of the switch flooded the living room with light, showing that the room was empty.

"Darry?" Soda ventured carefully.

Only silence answered.

They all moved further into the house. Soda headed in the direction of the bedrooms, but on a whim Pony turned toward the kitchen.

The room was darkened just like the rest of the house. But as he flipped on the light, he saw that the back door was open just a crack. As Pony crossed the room, he couldn't help but glance at the kitchen table. It was exactly as they had left it that morning, breakfast plates with half eaten food and empty coffee mugs still sitting on the table as no one had wanted to hang around long enough to do the dishes. It was all in the exact same place, right down to the newspaper, abandoned with the damning heading still screaming up at him in unforgiving black lettering. " _Numbers 101, 102, and 103 of the Draft Lottery Called to Service_."

 _101._

That morning they had found out that Darry's draft number had been called to service.

It wasn't a surprise. They had all known for weeks – possibly even months if they really wanted to be honest with themselves – that this was inevitable. But it was still a hard pill to swallow when it finally happened.

Pony forced himself to walk past the table and to the door. Carefully, he eased the door open and his gaze immediately fell on the figure who sat heavily on back step.

"Darry?" he said quietly into the night.

Darry didn't turn, but rather simply brought a bottle to his lips. Pony made no mention of how it was practically unheard of for Darry to drink. He knew that these were extenuating circumstances. Instead, he climbed down the stairs – leaving the door open behind him to make it easier for Soda and Steve to find them – and took a seat next to Darry. Without a word, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

There were no words that would make this better. All Pony could do was offer his quiet support to his oldest brother.

It only took a few minutes for Soda and Steve to find them. Neither of them offered up any empty words either. They came around to stand at the foot of the step. Steve pulled out another cigarette and quietly handed the pack to Soda so that he could help himself.

And that was how they stayed. Late into the night, they were still there. No one said a word. They just existed in each other's company, knowing that their days of being able to be together like this were numbered.

Once upon a time, Ponyboy had two loving parents, two older brothers to look out for him and four close friends that were as good as family. Eight people in his life that he could depend on no matter what. It was so much more than most of the other people on the East Side. But fate just wouldn't let him keep those people. Fate just wouldn't let him be one of the lucky ones.

He lost his parents when he was thirteen to a car accident. He lost both Johnny and Dally when he was fourteen to fire and violence. In under two years the number of people that he loved and cared for had been viciously cut in half. Their circle had been cut down from nine people to five. Then, in the last couple months it had been cut down to four. And now they were facing the fact that there would only be three of them left after Darry was taken from them.

At nineteen years old, life still seemed intent on reminding Pony that his close friends and family was never guaranteed to him.

* * *

It was like, just to add insult to injury, time sped up.

The week passed in a blur and Darry had to report for his physical evaluation. It was no surprise that he was immediately cleared. Rumors of doctors overlooking medical conditions in order to fill quotas, especially when it came to the lower class, had filled their neighborhood ever since this had all started.

They needed bodies on the front lines of Vietnam. And with so many of the upper-class men deferring, the standards for the lower-class had lowered significantly.

Another week passed, and Darry had to pack his bags, preparing to leave the state of Oklahoma for the first time in his life. It was one of the most painful things Pony had witnessed to that point. Of course, that point was before him and Sodapop had to drive Darry to the bus station at the crack of dawn just two weeks after Darry's draft number had been called.

Not a word had been said all morning. It felt like there was just nothing left to say, and any empty words were just going to make this already gaping wound that much more painful.

They arrived at the bus station just as the sun was peaking up over the horizon. Pony's eyes drifted up to the colors that painted the freshly woken sky… but just couldn't see the beauty in it that he used to. It was just another day. Another day that would try to break him as it took away the only parent figure that he had left.

The three piled out of the truck but then just stood around awkwardly in the parking lot, struggling to find something to say. After all, this very well could be the last day they were all together like this.

It was Darry who finally broke the silence.

"You two look after each other, you hear me?" he said, his voice rough as he looked between the two of them. "And stay outta trouble."

"We will, don't worry about that, Darry," Soda assured him, but he sounded so strained and couldn't quite look at their oldest brother. "You just… keep yourself safe out there. Okay?"

Darry gave him a half smile, though the expression didn't quite meet his eyes. "Yeah, I will, I promise." He focused on Pony, who's throat had tightened painfully. "Pony? You gonna be okay?"

Pony snorted a laugh, but there was no humor behind it. "I feel like I should be asking you that."

"C'mere, Pony," Darry invited softly, holding out one hand.

Pony moved over to his oldest brother, allowing him to wrap his arms around him and pull him in close. It almost caused Pony to lose it completely, but somehow, he managed to blink back the tears that threatened to overflow. Darry didn't need that burden right now.

"I just… I just want to thank you Darry," Pony mumbled into Darry's shoulder, only now realizing that they were almost the same height. "For… for everything you've done for us."

Darry gave him a hard squeeze. "You'll never have to thank me for that Pony," he said gruffly, his voice wavering dangerously.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that before Darry finally pulling away, discreetly wiping at his eyes. He turned to Soda and quietly pulled him into a hug, holding him close. He spoke quietly to Soda as Soda nodded. As they broke apart, Pony knew that he would never ask what Darry said to him. It was obviously something that was just for Soda, and Pony wouldn't dare intrude on that.

Darry walked around to the bed of the truck and grabbed his duffle bag that was packed with what few personal belongings he would need. Then he turned in the direction that the bus was parked… and hesitated.

"You take care of yourself, Darry," Soda said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I will," Darry agreed, his eyes still trained on the bus. Pony got the feeling that if he looked away… he might lose his nerve.

"You'll write to us… right?" Pony said.

"Of course, I will," Darry said, strained. Then, with what seemed like a huge effort, he turned his head and looked at his two brothers. "I love you. Both of you."

"Love you too," Soda and Pony said almost in unison.

Darry nodded. Then he turned… and he walked away.

Pony had to reach out and brace himself on the edge of the truck bed to keep his knees from buckling out from under him as he watched Darry board that bus. He wanted to scream, to cry, to pinch himself and find out that this was only a bad nightmare. But he didn't do any of that. He just stood there, numb and helpless as he watched the bus drive away with his brother.

Both Soda and Pony just stood there in the parking lot for several long minutes after the bus left. Finally, Soda turned to look at Pony, his gaze just as numb as Pony felt.

"You okay, Ponyboy?" he asked softly.

"No," Pony answered, his voice cracking. He glanced down the road in the direction that the bus had disappeared. He took in a shaky breath. What if that was the last time he would ever see Darry? "Let's go home."

Soda nodded his agreement as he turned and climbed back into the cab of the truck. Pony took an extra moment, willing himself to have some sort of composure before he circled around to the opposite side of the truck and climbed into the passenger's seat.

But again, once Pony climbed in and slammed the door shut, they sat in silence. It seemed that any action required a pause to gather up their energy.

"Soda?" Pony said quietly into the heavy silence.

"Yeah, Pony?" His voice sounded painfully thin, his eyes still carefully trained straight ahead.

"Where's Steve?"

Soda swallowed thickly. Then he mechanically reached out and turned the key. The engine coughed once and then died. It had been doing that a lot lately, something that Soda kept on insisting that he was going to look at, but hadn't gotten around to yet. He turned the key again and this time the engine shuttered to life.

"I dunno," he said flatly as he shifted the truck into drive, his eyes steadily trained on the road as he started to drive.

Steve had been crashing on their couch indefinitely after leaving his father's house after he turned eighteen. But that morning when they had woken up, Steve had been nowhere to be found and none of them had had the energy to really wonder where he had gone.

The drive back to the house was painfully silent.

As they finally pulled back into the driveway and Pony climbed out of the truck, he looked at the house. Nothing was different from when they had left this morning, or from what it had looked like yesterday for that matter. But somehow, just standing outside the house, Pony could already see that it seemed emptier than it had before. It suddenly resembled a house that had been abandoned by a family who could no longer afford their rent or mortgage.

By the time he pulled himself from his thoughts, Soda had sat on the steps leading to the front porch and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He had started buying his own packs recently, a sign that he was now a regular smoker to have gone beyond just bumming off of Pony or Steve.

Pony couldn't bring himself to comment as he approached and pulled out his own pack of cigarettes. He leaned up against the railing as he lit up, breathing the smoke deep into his lungs, closing his eyes and wishing that he could wake up and find that none of this was real.

But, of course, when he opened his eyes nothing had changed.

Pony honestly wasn't sure how long they stayed like that – it had to be a significant amount of time as they had each sucked down several cigarettes to the filters – before he noticed the figure coming up the street, drifting in a bit of a disoriented way. He watched the figure without thinking much of it until he approached the walk to their house and he finally recognized him. It was Steve.

He approached the porch, wavering in a way that made Pony pretty sure he had been drinking. He paused long enough to pluck the cigarette from behind his ear and then light it. Then he looked at Soda, shoving his free hand in his pocket as he hunched his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice small a little hoarse. Soda nodded a little, but he wasn't looking at Steve, staring blankly just to one side of him. "I just… I couldn't," Steve went on to try and explain.

Soda's gaze grew distant. He took one last, long drag off his cigarette before flicking it down to the pavement and stepping on it. Then, without a word or a glance at either of them, he turned and climbed the stairs, walking into the house and letting the screen door bang shut behind him.

Steve stared at the closed door for a minute. Then he turned his gaze on Pony, and Pony was shocked to see the emotion in his eyes. Pain. Fear. Regret.

It would be a long time before Steve wouldn't have regret in his gaze.

"I'm sorry," Steve tried again, his tone begging for someone, _anyone_ , to understand. "I just couldn't watch him go. I just couldn't do it."

"Neither could we," Pony pointed out softly, meeting Steve's unsteady gaze. Strangely, though he didn't feel angry, but rather indescribably worn. "But we did anyway."

It was day one and they were already falling apart in the wake of Darry's departure. And Pony suddenly couldn't help but wonder… could their family really survive the next year without Darry there to hold them together? Only time would tell… but they certainly weren't off to a good start.

And heaven help them if Darry didn't make it back to them.


End file.
